Children of the Sun
by Lomonaaeren
Summary: AU, gen, Harry and Draco friendship. In a world where wizards and witches can sense each other's familiars but no one else can, Harry's impressive familiar makes an eleven-year-old Draco Malfoy take more notice of him.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Children of the Sun

 **Disclaimer:** J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

 **Pairing:** Gen, Harry and Draco friendship

 **Rating:** G

 **Warnings:** AU, slight angst

 **Wordcount:** 2500

 **Summary:** AU. In a world where wizards and witches can sense each other's familiars but no one else can, Harry's impressive familiar makes an eleven-year-old Draco Malfoy take more notice of him.

 **Author's Notes:** This is another of my Wednesday one-shots, based on an anonymous prompt: _Harry/Draco preslash: AU where witches and wizards have familiars that are only visible to one another, and not Muggles. Harry's familiar is impressive and impossible to hide. Because of this, when Draco meets him for the first time in Madam Malkin's, he is much more observant._ This by itself isn't pre-slash, since I think that would require a full novel. But I might easily write more to follow this story.

 **Children of the Sun**

When the door to Madam Malkin's opened, Draco turned around with lazy indifference. The chances that it would be someone interesting were low. He had to admit that despite the excitement of getting his wand, it had so far seemed like an ordinary day in Diagon Alley. He almost thought he would meet himself when he was seven or ten around a corner any second.

Above him, his familiar, Kali, stretched her head and yawned in agreement. She was a glittering silver miniature dragon, and she had to sit on a rafter in the shop while Madam Malkin fitted Draco for robes, instead of his shoulder, which she preferred. She was even less impressed by today than he was.

But then a glow crept along the edge of the stool. He frowned and turned.

A boy had stepped into the shop. He had messy black hair and wrists so thin Draco thought Goyle could break them without trying. Nothing very impressive. Probably half-blood at _most_ , Draco thought.

But the glow came from behind him. And when he moved, Draco could see that his familiar was an enormous golden snake, thick-bodied and heavy—a constrictor, not a venomous snake, Draco thought, a little dazed—with metallic scales etched with runes. Wild runes, Draco thought at a glance, nothing he recognized. Runes of instinctive protection and defense. This boy had had to defend himself a lot, and his familiar had helped him.

Kali had snapped to attention on her rafter. Draco knew he was staring. Mother would probably say he was rude, but he couldn't help himself. He was proud of himself for having a silver familiar, and even prouder that both his parents did, too.

He had never even _seen_ someone with a golden familiar. It made him ache and want to get closer to the boy, all at once.

The boy just gave Draco a cautious glance and then didn't look at him again, as if he thought that walking into the shop was intimidating or something. He turned to Madam Malkin instead—and _her_ owl familiar was barely tin, it was an insult, honestly—and said, "I need a set of school robes, please."

"Of course, dear." Madam Malkin's voice was hushed, and she was helping the new boy up onto the stool, ignoring Draco. Draco couldn't even blame her. His father had told him what to do if he ever met someone with the highest hierarchy of familiar—other than Dumbledore, who everyone knew had a golden phoenix—and a shopkeeper had to be overwhelmed. Her owl cooed and fluttered up on the rafters, and ignored Kali when she hissed at him.

Draco kept watching the boy, not daring to introduce himself yet. The boy just stood there and looked around and said nothing, though. Draco would have thought that he didn't want to speak to anyone in the shop, but then, he'd talked to Madam Malkin.

And the expression on his face was _strange_ if that was what was really going on. He looked as though he was frightened.

The golden snake curled around the bottom of the boy's stool. He was watching Draco. Draco met his eyes—blazing green, as though they were emeralds set in a snake that was made of real gold—and bowed.

"It's so strange being around people who can see Golden."

Draco jumped, and looked at the boy, who was considering him with bright eyes of his own. Eyes almost the green color of his snake's. Draco felt a small shiver travel up his spine. It was a rare and powerful witch or wizard who had eyes the color of their familiar's. Kali had blue eyes to Draco's grey. It was close enough to be proud of.

Now, Draco felt as though someone was pressing down on him.

"You've lived with Muggles?" Draco had to ask, because it was the only thing that made sense with what the boy had said. And yet, Draco had trouble believing it for himself. Who would abandon such a _strong_ boy to Muggles? Who would decide that he wasn't worth protecting, guiding, bringing up?

Draco had heard of children being given to Muggles, but they were always Squibs, who had no familiars and had to make do with unbonded animals. Any wizard ought to have been able to see this boy's snake.

"Yes," said the boy. He shrugged a little because Madam Malkin pricked him with a pin, but shook his head when she apologized. "No, it's fine, I was the one who moved." He studied Draco with hopeful eyes. "I didn't know I was a wizard until today. It's so _strange_. I've always had Golden with me, but I never met anyone else who had a familiar like him. And then I come to Diagon Alley and _everyone_ is walking around with one!" He looked around the shop. "Where's yours?"

Draco struggled to breathe. Mother and Father had never taught him how to behave around someone like this. Someone who didn't know that he had a golden familiar, just thought it was a golden snake…that was what Draco was picking up.

But Draco knew what he had to do, and not just because the boy was interesting. He held up a hand and said, "Her name's Kali."

Kali winged down and sat on his fist on cue. The boy gaped, then laughed. "She's beautiful! She's named after a goddess, isn't she?"

No sign of contempt because Draco had a silver familiar. Of course, _Draco_ had never thought a silver familiar was contemptible, but he knew the way the hierarchy was supposed to work. He nodded with a little smile. "Yes. My name's Draco Malfoy. What's your name?"

"Harry Potter."

Draco stood there and felt as if the shop was falling down around him. Really? _Really_? Harry Potter—it might make sense that he had a golden familiar, but it didn't make sense that he'd grown up with Muggles, and he didn't know how powerful he was, and he acted like he just wanted to make friends and didn't know it was unusual— _really_?

"Are you all right?" Potter was peering at Draco, and he'd grabbed the side of his robe. "Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry. I just don't know everything about this place yet. And my aunt always says I'm rude."

 _These Muggles have no idea how to treat a wizard._ Draco lifted his head instead and nodded. "You're fine." He put Kali on his shoulder, since Madam Malkin didn't act like she was going to come poke around him for a while. "Why is your snake called Golden?"

It was a slightly rude question, but he thought he could get away with it, when Potter was so strange. And sure enough, Potter just smiled, although he was also blushing. "Because I named him when I was really young and that was the only thing I could think of."

Golden raised his head and eyed Draco. Draco found it hard to read a snake's expressions—even though Kali was a dragon, she had her wings and her neck and her tail to express emotion—but he thought he was being judged.

Golden put his head down again a second later.

"Why did you grow up with Muggles?" Draco demanded, the question he thought was most pressing. If he went back to Father without asking it, Father would certainly ask why, and the thought of his voice made Draco wince.

"Because my parents died and they were the only relatives I had left." Potter stared around the shop again as though everything was amazing, even Madam Malkin's tin owl fluttering his wings and trying to bow or something from his rafter. "But it's much nicer here. Well, not everyone trying to shake my hand in the Leaky Cauldron. But everyone being able to see Golden is."

 _He doesn't like his fame? How strange._ But that just told Draco how he should act, and it wasn't talking about Potter being the Boy-Who-Lived or even showing him the kind of respect that he would show most children with golden familiars. Draco nodded and said, "Well, you should know that most people have familiars that are the color of tin or copper." He ignored the way Madam Malkin looked at him. She was only doing it because he didn't meet her eyes. All it would take was one hiss from Kali and she would stop. "Some have bronze. A few have silver."

Potter's shoulders hunched. "What about gold?"

Draco paused. He would have to get this right. But he thought he had. He smiled at Potter. "People with gold familiars are the most special of all."

"Oh." Potter didn't look overjoyed at that news, for some reason, the way Draco would have thought he would. In fact, he was staring at his hands in dread, and he didn't even stop when Golden raised his head and gently licked Potter's wrists.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"I don't want to be special," Potter whispered. "I just want people to think I'm normal. Back at Privet Drive—I mean, at my aunt and uncle's, everyone stares at me because they think I'm crazy or a criminal. And here, they stare at me because of something I don't even remember." He looked up at Draco. "I want a friend, and I can't be friends with people who stare at me all the time."

Draco didn't remember his parents ever telling him something that would let him cope with this. People with golden familiars were supposed to be surrounded by other people from birth. They would teach them about what it meant to have the highest hierarchy of familiars. They would teach them to be respectful and gracious—no one wanted golden people to be rude—but on the other hand, they would also teach them that they weren't exactly like other wizards. They were the right sort. No one was righter.

To be _normal_? It wasn't something Draco had ever wanted to be himself.

But maybe what Potter needed was someone who could help teach him that. So Draco said, "I'll be your friend."

Potter looked at Draco, and his eyes were narrowed a little distrustfully. "Really? You would? Even though you don't know me?"

"I grew up knowing who you are," Draco began.

"But that's just _it_!" Potter waved his hands around, and Madam Malkin held her breath but didn't dare to cluck the way she would have with Draco. " _I_ didn't!"

Draco stopped again. He knew things were wrong, but not _exactly_ what was; he would just have to go carefully, he supposed. "Well, I didn't know who you were, as in your personality," he admitted. "I knew you were the Boy-Who-Lived and you lived when the Dark Lord tried to kill you."

"Voldemort?"

Draco winced. "No one says his name aloud," he explained to Potter, who blinked at him.

"Yeah, Hagrid said something about that. But it's just a name."

"It still scares people," Draco said. He would have to go even more slowly than he'd thought. Potter wasn't stupid, but he was so ignorant, especially if he had a half-giant instructing him. "But you're right, I don't know who you really are. So why don't you tell me?"

Potter looked down at Golden, who looked back at him. He blinked and looked up again. Draco tried to stand there and look friendly.

He didn't know if he'd succeeded, even though Kali nuzzled him under the chin. He hadn't ever really had to look friendly around Crabbe and Goyle. They were with him because they were supposed to be. And Draco didn't mind them being that way, because they had copper familiars and it was right and proper that he led them when he had a silver one.

Now, though, he wondered if he could have a better friendship with someone who had a gold one.

"I'm someone who's scared and excited and has a golden snake and wants people to be my friend and call me Harry," said Potter.

Madam Malkin sat back on her heels and gaped at him. But a second later, Draco caught her eye and reminded her of her place, and she turned back to pinning up Potter's robes. Or Harry's robes. If he really wanted a friend, then Draco could do that for him.

"If you want that," Draco said, "then I can help."

"Even though you've heard about me all my life?"

 _That's why he isn't stupid,_ Draco thought, and looked at Harry with some respect. He would know if Draco was telling him stories—if only because he could just go and look some things up in books—and he would probably walk away if Draco wasn't a real friend.

"Yes," said Draco. "I don't—people with silver familiars aren't common, either, although not as rare as you." Kali, still eyeing Harry's snake, gave a little hiss, and Draco stroked her wings. "I don't have many friends. Just people who look up to me and want me to lead them. My father told me it was my responsibility."

Harry smiled at him. Draco felt as if he could fall into a different world with that smile. It wasn't something he knew how to handle, just like someone walking into a shop with a golden familiar and willingly talking to him wasn't something he knew how to handle.

"I'd like to be friends," Harry said simply, and put out his hand.

Draco took it. Kali hissed in approval on his shoulder, flapping her tail. Golden did the same thing by Harry's feet, a deep sound that seemed to thrum in Draco's bones and move around to the top of his head.

It was a beginning, Draco knew. Of what, he didn't really know. But he knew Harry Potter was powerful and deserved to have something more than just Muggles who didn't care about him.

And maybe even more than people who looked at him and saw only his golden familiar. Most people Draco knew like that, like Dumbledore, would have been walking around with the sun shining on them from their birth. But Harry needed someone to come get him and give him a little sun.

As for Draco…

 _I always deserve something more. And now I think I've found it._

 **The End.**


	2. Nothing Gold

**Title:** Nothing Gold

 **Disclaimer:** J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

 **Warnings:** Slight angst

 **Rating:** PG

 **Pairings:** None, gen

 **Wordcount:** 4000

 **Summary:** It's a month since Harry was in Madam Malkin's and met a boy who told him what it meant that he had a golden snake by his side that was invisible to Muggles. And now Harry's boarding the Hogwarts Express, and his main wish is that everyone would stop _staring_ at him.

 **Author's Notes:** This is a one-shot sequel to "Children of the Sun," probably eventually to become part of a longer series. The main thing you need to know is that wizards and witches have familiars in the form of animals that Muggles can't see but they can, and these familiars follow a metallic hierarchy of colors, from tin at the bottom up through copper, bronze, and silver. Gold is at the top.

 **Nothing Gold**

Harry hunched his shoulders. So much for his thought that he could slip into the Hogwarts Express unnoticed. The wizards and witches were at least easy to make out compared to the Muggles, because they turned around and stared at Golden.

The huge snake crawling at his side had always made Harry feel strange; he knew his aunt and uncle couldn't see Golden, and neither could anyone else. Sometimes Harry had wondered if he was really mad or a freak, just like everyone said. And then he had come to the wizarding world, and everyone had an animal with them, and he was happy for a little while. He was going to be normal!

But of course he couldn't be. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, and Golden was, well, _gold_. That made him special or something.

"I'm not special," Harry muttered to Golden as he watched a red-headed family pass him. They all seemed to have bronze familiars, perched on their shoulders or trotting next to them or flying over their heads. Harry hadn't seen a single other person with a gold one yet. "I'm Harry."

Golden lifted up a section of his back for Harry to touch. From reading his schoolbooks for the past month, Harry knew the odd designs on his scales were actually runes of protection and defense. He supposed it made sense that they tended to appear when he felt like he was in danger.

His relatives had been unpleasant, but they hadn't actually touched him or beaten him or starved him, because they couldn't. There was always an invisible barrier when they tried to get to him, and barriers that would let Harry into the kitchen but not them.

Harry knew these barriers had come from Golden. But he'd never understood why. Now that he'd read the books, he did. Familiars expressed the magic of the wizards and witches they were bonded to. And Golden was bonded to Harry, and he directed Harry's magic until Harry actually got a wand. Now that Harry had one, he and Harry would perform the spells together.

"Should we get on the Express?" Harry asked, staring up at the train looming above them. It blew smoke and a second later let out the loudest noise Harry thought he had ever heard. Well, except for Dudley crying when Aunt Petunia tried to put him on a diet.

Golden curled around his feet in answer, and then surged up on the platform. People froze and gaped, but Golden had learned to pay them no attention. He disappeared into the train with a little flip of his shining tail.

Harry wished he had managed to learn the same lesson. He tried to be calm and casual as he followed Golden. He didn't think people could see his scar at this distance, which should help.

It didn't matter, though, he saw with a sinking heart. They didn't know he was Harry Potter, but they knew he had a golden familiar. There was a growing murmur, and several of them started towards him.

Harry leaped onto the train and bolted towards the first compartment he could find. It was empty, a good thing. Golden flowed into it, and Harry snapped the door shut just before the first people could come into the corridor looking for him.

Harry sighed and sank back on his seat, shaking his head. He'd hoped he could find Draco, the boy from the robe shop, but either he wasn't here yet or he was already on, and Harry couldn't go back out and look for him right now.

He looked gloomily out the window, at least until Golden tried to curl up in his lap the way he had when they were both smaller. He slid off now, of course. He was way too big a snake. Harry smiled and bent down, hugging him around the neck.

"I'm okay. It's just stupid, for them to want to be near me when they can't know what I'm like. What if I was like Dudley?"

Golden flickered out his tongue twice. Harry laughed. Golden had his tongue out all the time tasting the air, of course, but Harry knew what he meant when he did it twice in a row. He utterly didn't believe that Harry could ever be like Dudley.

Harry hugged Golden again and pulled one of the books on familiars out of the bag. He didn't understand as much as he should about how he would make magic with Golden, because he hadn't been able to practice with his wand. Maybe now that he could use his wand, he'd see better.

* * *

"Um. Excuse me. Is anyone else sitting here?"

Harry looked up in surprise. Golden had gone to sleep under the seat, and Harry thought that was the only reason the red-haired boy had come into the compartment with him. It was one of the family Harry had seen earlier. He looked like he was Harry's own age.

He moved a little to the side as if he thought Harry was asking to see his familiar. And there he was, a bronze wolf who wagged his tail and promptly stalked over to sniff Harry's chin and then sniff Golden where his tail stuck out.

Harry was watching, and sighed a little at the boy's slightly dropped jaw when Golden came slithering out and yawned with a baring of his teeth. The boy didn't look frightened, at least, but he said in a low voice, "You have a golden familiar."

"Yes," Harry said. "And his name's Golden. That's because I named him when I was a little kid, and he refuses to let me change it."

The boy blinked. Harry relaxed a little. He hoped that would make him sound ordinary. Someone who had a fancy name for their familiar would probably intimidate the boy more. Harry imagined what effect Draco, with his silver familiar named after a goddess, would have, and almost snorted.

"Um. I'm Ron Weasley, and this is Arctos." Weasley patted his wolf on the head. Arctos yawned and wandered back to investigate Harry again, wagging his tail harder when he came to the pocket where Harry had put a biscuit that morning. Harry dumped out a few crumbs and let the wolf lick them up from his palm. Arctos's tongue was warm and barely there. "You haven't said what your name is."

"Harry Potter."

Weasley actually took a step back as if he would run away. Golden made a little motion, but Harry shook his head at him. If Weasley was afraid, there was nothing they could do to change it. He would just have to find Weasley later, or show him he was ordinary when they got to the school and hope he would come back.

Then Weasley did something worse than running away. He bowed so deeply Harry thought he was going to bash his nose into his knees, and muttered, "If you only knew how honored I felt—"

"Yeah, well, I don't."

Weasley froze, and then seemed to realize how silly it was for him to stand there locked in a bow and stood up cautiously. "What?"

"I think it's silly for you to feel honored just because I have Golden." Golden decided then that he wanted to ooze his head onto Harry's lap, and Harry had to lean back on the seat so he could. "I could be a horrible person, for all you know. I could be a bully. I could beat up people like my cousin does. I could be plotting to take over the world like this Dark Lord Voldemort I've read all about. You don't actually _know_ who I am. Are all people who have golden familiars good?"

Weasley blinked again. Then he said, "Well, no, I don't _think_ so. Sometimes there are Dark Lords with golden familiars." He took a deep breath and then blurted out, "You—you're really Harry Potter? And you say You-Know-Who's name? And you don't want me bowing to you even though I _should_?"

"Yes, and yes, and yes," said Harry, grinning at him. He was happy that Weasley was getting past the silliness so quickly. He didn't think most of the people on the platform would have. "Can you sit down and actually tell me about yourself and Arctos? Why did you name him Arctos? Was that your family I saw you with? What are they like?"

Weasley—Ron—sat slowly down on the seat across from Harry, watching him cross-eyed. "Um, I named him Arctos because we had a big book of maps," he said. "Old maps. Muggle maps, I mean. Dad likes Muggles, I think he got it from somewhere. And one morning Arctos knocked the book down and put his paw on the page it fell open to and howled. That was the only word on the part where he was pressing, so I named him that."

"Wow." Harry stared at Arctos, who had sat down and was glancing around with lifted ears and a sniffing nose. "I wish I had a good story like that. I just called Golden by his color, and then he refused _everything_ else."

"Arctos knows what he wants, most of the time." Ron was grinning. "You really think it's a good story?"

"Of course." Harry blinked at Ron. "What, you don't?"

"I don't know. My family thinks it's silly most of the time, so I suppose I thought—I mean, the twins thought other people would think it was silly, too."

Harry shook his head firmly. "No. I don't. You have _twins_ in your family?" That was fascinating, Harry thought. Sometimes he had pretended he had a twin when he lay in the cupboard under the stairs, squashed in against Golden, and his twin would know everything and get someone to rescue Harry and think exactly like him. "Brothers or sisters?"

"Brothers. All of us are brothers except my one sister. Ginny. She won't be coming to Hogwarts until next year. And my twin brothers are Fred and George, and," Ron sighed hard, "they have _cockatoos_. Fabian for Fred and Gideon for George. It's so _brilliant_. They can fly, and cockatoos can pick everything open that they try their beaks on. Fabian used to open cupboards and get food for Fred and George, but they didn't always share it with me. And Gideon can find every toy my parents ever hid."

"Sometimes I wish Golden could fly," said Harry, and hugged the coil that still lay in his lap. "But not very often."

"Well, but he doesn't need to. I mean, he's _golden_."

Golden raised his head and darted his tongue out. Ron laughed in surprise as the tongue tickled his hand. Harry snickered. "That's one thing that I hadn't thought about when I named him. Now, every time people get stupid about my familiar's color, Golden will just think they're talking about him."

Ron was giving him a very weird look. "You don't really like having a gold familiar? I mean, that's brilliant, too. More brilliant than Fabian and Gideon."

Harry shook his head firmly. "I want brothers and sisters more than anything else," he said truthfully. "And my parents back. Hagrid told me—he's a friend who took me to Diagon Alley—how they died. It was the first time I ever knew. I grew up with my Muggle aunt and uncle, and I didn't know what Golden was, and I didn't know what magic was or where my parents went. They told me my parents had died acting stupid and reckless."

Ron sat there with an open mouth. Harry smiled at him. "You should close your mouth or I'm going to tell Golden to crawl into it."

That worked. Ron shook his head and said simply, "I can't imagine. I mean, my dad's mad for Muggles—that's why we had that book of maps I named Arctos from—but I can't imagine living with them."

He looked at Harry with true sympathy, Harry thought. And Arctos trotted over and nudged at Harry's knee with his nose. Harry petted him, and marveled at how soft his fur was, compared to the roughness of Golden's scales. He couldn't see any runes on Arctos the way there were on Golden, but maybe Ron had used his magic differently.

Harry was about to ask, when Ron's pocket stirred. A rat poked its head out of it, and Harry looked at him in delight. "I didn't know anyone had _two_ familiars!" The rat's fur was grey, but Harry thought that must make him a tin one. Or a silver.

"Oh, I don't." Ron was bright red. He took the rat out of his pocket and balanced it in his palm, where the rat rolled on his back and promptly went to sleep. "This is our pet rat. Scabbers. My older brother Percy had him at school for a while, and then he passed him down to me. There are certain pieces of magic Arctos is good at, but sometimes you can get even better at others if you have another animal working with your familiar."

Harry sighed in envy. He didn't have another animal. He'd had to refuse Hagrid's gift when he tried to buy Harry an owl. The Dursleys would never have let him keep another animal, and the owl wouldn't have been able to protect herself the way Golden could.

Golden nudged his knee where Arctos had. Harry scratched behind his left eye, and said, "Brilliant. Can you show me some magic?"

For some reason, Ron turned bright red again, but he took out his wand. Arctos immediately bounded over to his side and stood there with his head tilted back so that his nose touched the back of Ron's elbow. He was braced like he was dragging against a huge weight.

Harry smiled again. This was going to be lots of fun, seeing the different way that everyone used their familiars.

"Butter and marigolds," Ron began.

The door to the compartment abruptly opened, and Harry jumped and turned around. A brown-haired girl stepped inside and asked them, "Have you seen a toad? Neville's lost his toad familiar, and—"

A slender shape on her shoulder popped its head around hers and wrinkled its nose. Harry had to laugh. It looked like a weasel, but it had a tail with a black tip, and pale fur that shone silver. "What's your familiar?"

"Oh." The girl blinked at him, then smiled. "This is Regina. She's an ermine—well, a stoat, but she's always been white, so I call her an ermine." She caught sight of Golden, and gasped. "Oh, my. And you have a golden snake!" Her hand drifted up and landed on her ermine's back.

"He won't eat any other familiars," Harry told her, amused. He used to be puzzled when he was a kid because Golden didn't eat, but he had found out from some of the books on the magical world that familiars existed on the magic of their witch or wizard.

"Right. I should have known that from reading _Hogwarts, A History_." The girl blushed a little, and then stuck out her hand. "My name is Hermione Granger."

"You're Muggleborn?" Ron asked from his seat. "I'm Ron Weasley, and this is Arctos." Arctos grunted a little as Ron touched his back, although he was watching Regina as if he thought the ermine would try to creep down and bite his tail.

"Yes." Hermione's chin tilted up, and Harry thought she was going to defend herself if necessary. He could understand that. Some of the books had been explicit about how much prejudice Muggleborns faced in the wizarding world.

"I don't mean anything by it," Ron said hastily. "I just didn't recognize your name, and here you are."

"Right." Hermione turned to face Harry. "You haven't introduced yourself yet."

"Harry Potter. This is Golden."

Harry was trying to rush past his name, because if Hermione had read a lot he thought he knew what would happen, but it didn't work. She did gasp a little, but her eyes shone, and she moved forwards as if she'd stopped being afraid of Golden. "You really _are_ the one who defeated You-Know-Who? Oh, I've read all about you. _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_ —but none of them mentioned you had a golden familiar—"

"They might have assumed that the _right_ kind of people would find out directly from Harry himself."

Hermione swung around with a little squeak as Kali flew past her shoulder. Regina hid behind her neck. Ron stood up, and Arctos was with him, growling quietly. Harry blinked at Draco, who had called Kali back to his fist. He had on a glove made of what looked like silver scales stitched with golden thread.

"I'm Harry's friend," Draco said. He looked at Hermione and away again, as if he didn't want to see Regina. "I know who _you_ are, Weasley, with your red hair and your bronze familiar. And you're Muggleborn, Granger. I heard you say. If you've read all the books, you ought to know as well as Weasley does that neither of you is a fit friend for someone with a golden familiar."

"You take that _back_ ," said Ron, and he was bristling all over like Arctos. Harry thought someone was going to attack any minute.

Hermione was only staring at Draco as if she had no idea what to say to him. Regina peered out, and Draco's face changed a little. But then Hermione's lips began to quiver, and Harry was afraid she would start crying. He always felt helpless when girls cried.

He spoke as fast as he could, before Draco or Ron got angrier or Hermione ran away. "You told me when I first met that people with golden familiars could choose to do anything they wanted, Draco."

Draco blinked. So did Kali, ruffling her wings and looking around as if she thought she would be called on to attack someone. "Yes, I did. What does that have to do with this?"

"So I can be friends with anyone I want," Harry continued stubbornly. "And you told me yourself that you're tired of having to be the leader all the time and not having real friends. The way you described it made it sound _horrible_ , I don't want to be like that, either. I want all of you to be my friends instead of Draco treating me like a leader or Hermione treating me like someone she read about or Ron treating me like he should be bowing instead of sitting there. I should get what I want, right? Since I have a golden familiar."

Golden raised his head at the sound of his name, and let his tongue tickle the center of Harry's palm. Harry smiled down at him, rested his hand on Golden's head, and looked at Draco. He wasn't sure whether looking innocent or proud would be better, so he settled for an expression he hoped was normal and happy.

Draco's jaw was a little open. Harry smiled. He knew Draco was sort of restrained, and that was the equivalent of the way Ron was gaping. Hermione had stopped sniffling and looked back and forth at everyone as if this was a fascinating play.

"But," said Draco, in the tones of Aunt Petunia talking about the neighbors, "she's _Muggleborn_. That means she grew up thinking her familiar was just an imaginary friend. I _know_. My father's talked to them. She won't know anything about the proper way to treat familiars. Even her _own_ familiar."

"I know exactly how to treat Regina," said Hermione coldly. "She does whatever she wants except hurt other people, and she doesn't want to do that anyway. And I always knew she was real. When I read what it meant to have a silver familiar, though, I thought it was silly. I'm not a person destined to revere Potter or lord it over someone with a bronze one." She nodded to Ron.

Ron looked even more shocked than Draco. Draco turned to Harry and tried to put on a different tone. He just sounded like he was whining instead. "You're not _really_ , Harry. Right?"

"If I got rid of Hermione," Harry said, "I'd have to do the same thing to you. Because you both have silver familiars, so that means I have to treat you the same, right?"

Draco stood there looking stumped. Harry didn't think that happened very often. Draco seemed to have a lot of answers the day they'd met in the robe shop, at least once he started talking to Harry instead of bowing to him.

"Right," Harry said, because Draco still didn't say anything, and he turned to Hermione. "I didn't know about familiars and the magical world growing up, either. We'll learn together, and if you find anything out we need to know you can come talk to me, all right?"

"But how can you not know? You're in all those _books_."

"Books don't have all the answers, Granger," said Draco, in a lecturing tone that made him sound like he was the one who thought they did. "You'll have to accept that Harry is just an expert on some things."

"Except he just said he _isn't_ ," Hermione pointed out.

Harry grinned at her, especially when Draco looked stumped again. He turned to Ron. "And you can teach me all about living in the wizarding world, and what it's like to be part of a big family, and why you wanted to bow to me."

Draco interrupted before Ron, who looked stunned, could talk. "Why him and not me?"

"Because I don't think you have a big family," Harry said patiently. "Do you? I thought it was just you and your mum and dad."

Draco hesitated. "That's not the point."

"The point is that I need all of you," said Harry. "I had the chance to read some books about the magical world, but not all that many. And I don't know what it's like to grow up in it. And I don't know all the—" he almost said "nonsense" "—things about golden familiars and silver and the rest of it. I need people to tell me that. And I want to be friends with all of you. And I want you to get along. If you don't get along because you're lecturing people or telling them off for being Muggleborn or upset because you think having a bronze familiar makes you inferior, then you need to leave. Now." Harry folded his arms and glared around.

Golden swayed at his feet, hissing in the way that Harry knew meant he was amused. The other humans stood there and looked at each other.

The familiars had more sense. Regina ran down Hermione's arm and touched noses with Arctos. Then both of them turned and looked at Kali.

Kali stood there with her tail tense and quivering, probably because Draco was the most difficult of them. Then she pranced to the end of Draco's wrist and bowed her head. Arctos licked her neck and made her hiss, but Regina just reared up and looked at her, and that was apparently acceptable.

"I don't know how to be friends with people with bronze familiars," said Draco plaintively.

Harry put his hands on his hips, then had to take them off again because Golden didn't like him doing that and had coiled up beside him to nudge at his hands. "Do you know how to be friends with people with golden familiars?"

Draco shook his head.

"Well, then," said Harry, and he looked around the compartment, and watched Hermione admire Kali and open her mouth to ask a question, and Ron and Arctos exchange glances, and Draco look at Golden with an expression near to love. "We'll all just have to learn."

 **The End.**


	3. The Breath of a Flame

**Title:** The Breath of a Flame

 **Disclaimer:** J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

 **Pairings:** None; this is gen

 **Rating:** G

 **Warnings:** Very mild angst, AU (with familiars that Muggles cannot see)

 **Summary:** The Sorting approaches, and Harry has his own ideas about both it and where the Sorting Hat wants to send him.

 **Author's Notes:** This is both the latest installment in my Children of the Sun series, immediately following "Nothing Gold," and another of my July Celebration fics, in response to a request for the next in this series by nightlo.

 **The Breath of a Flame**

The Great Hall was wonderful.

Draco tried to tell himself that, of course, he'd known it would be. He wanted to raise his nose and stalk across the floor, and have everyone nearby gape at Kali. Because some people would have a silver familiar, but none of them would have a silver _dragon_.

But he didn't. Because nervousness was prickling him, and he kept looking back at Harry and Golden, who were the center of everyone's stares.

Draco didn't resent that, not really. Harry had a golden familiar. Of course he was going to attract more notice than silver, or bronze, or copper, or tin.

Except that Harry didn't think he was special because he had a golden familiar, or even that Golden was really special. He kept saying he just _was_ , and he wanted to be friends with everyone, and he wanted Draco to teach him about the wizarding world and Weasley to teach him about living in a large family and Granger to—

Draco hunched his shoulders. He couldn't remember, just then, what Harry had wanted to learn from Granger. The point was that he kept doing things that Draco didn't expect from someone with a golden familiar, and then saying brightly that he could do whatever he wanted, because couldn't people with golden familiars do that?

The thoughts swirled around and around in Draco's brain, and he wasn't even really watching as the first people got Sorted. Then again, they were only Hufflepuffs, so it wasn't like they _mattered_.

Kali turned and stretched out her nose, touching his cheek. Draco scowled. Even though she only meant it to comfort him and she would never criticize him, for some reason it reminded him of the way that Granger touched her ermine.

 _What would Harry say about you disregarding people just because they're Hufflepuffs?_

The biggest problem was that Draco knew exactly how Harry would _look_ as he said it, too. He sighed and began to clap as he watched people get herded forwards.

And he hoped that Harry's sly manipulation of the possibilities of having a golden familiar—it _was_ manipulation, it had to be—meant that he would end up in Slytherin with Draco.

He did have to worry, for just a moment, about whether he would be in Slytherin at all, himself, but then he dismissed that. Harry couldn't change him that profoundly. Mother had always said, with a fond smile, that no one could.

* * *

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione trotted forwards, and made sure that Regina was curled around her shoulders low enough that she wouldn't get in the way of the Sorting Hat. She tried to look proud and untroubled, too.

But she knew it didn't work when she felt the Sorting Hat fall onto her head and heard it laugh in her brain.

 _So determined, are you? And already you're trying to decide what your familiar being silver means, when you didn't think about that at all before._

 _I didn't think about it because I didn't_ know _about it,_ Hermione snapped. Then she paused. She remembered _Hogwarts, A History_ talking about how old the Sorting Hat was, and how it was the only artifact left that could really _remember_ the Founders. She should probably be more polite to it.

The Hat chuckled, and there was a little irritating rasp to the chuckle. _Don't worry about being nice to me, young lady! Just tell me why you think you should be in Gryffindor when you would fit so much better into Ravenclaw._

 _Because Gryffindor is the best House. And it's the one I want to make friends in._

Hermione felt Regina push her round head into Hermione's hand. Hermione petted her and _wished_. She could imagine herself as the brave heroine, smiling at people as she coaxed them into reading more and improving their marks. She probably wouldn't ever be able to play Quidditch, but she had a daydream that they cheered her anyway as she walked away from the Quidditch pitch, having stolen half the team into studying instead.

 _You don't have friends already?_

That stopped Hermione so suddenly that her lungs hurt a little. She shook her head. _I don't know what you mean._

 _The friends you met on the train? Do you think they're all going to go with you into Gryffindor?_

Hermione hesitated. She remembered Weasley talking about Gryffindor and how his whole family was there. _He will_.

 _And Harry?_

Hermione hesitated again. _I mean, he doesn't seem like he would want to be in Slytherin. Or Ravenclaw. He didn't talk about reading our schoolbooks_ at all! _Except the one on Herbology._

 _Well, that is true. I can see from your memories._ The Hat still sounded amused about something. _But I can tell you that Gryffindor is not the only House in which you will make friends. And that often, studying is more about interesting people in what they will learn than in their marks._

Hermione thought about it. She always wanted good marks, and she had been one of the best students at her old school. But it was also true that when she tried to get other girls, or even boys, to study with her and instruct them in the treasures books had inside them, they all ended up backing away and making fun of her.

 _Ravenclaw has many people in it already convinced that studying is important. They will provide you with a better audience. And meanwhile, you will have friends in other Houses who can give you a dose of reality that's not academic when the Ravenclaws get to be too much for you._

Hermione ended up folding her arms. _You've already decided where to put me, haven't you?_

 _I have. But you and your ermine are going to go far no matter what your House._

Feeling Regina nudge her, and thinking about the way Harry didn't think he was better than her just because he had a golden familiar, let Hermione smile as the Hat shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"

* * *

Draco shook his head as he watched Neville Longbottom almost run off with the Sorting Hat on his way to Hufflepuff. His hopping, silvery toad familiar was the only distinguishing thing about him, and from what Draco had overheard as they were waiting for the Sorting to begin, it was named _Trevor_. Draco could think of many other things to name it—

 _Well, okay, maybe not a toad. But better than_ Trevor.

Now it was his turn. Draco marched towards the Hat, and he knew people were watching him. If nothing else, there would be people eager to see where a hereditary enemy or ally of their people would be put. And Professor Snape would be sitting, calmly attentive. He had to know that Draco was going into Slytherin, but he would want to watch.

There were eyes behind him, though.

Draco turned, almost expecting to see it was Weasley. But then he realized it was Harry, and he was already holding his hands poised ready to clap. Draco blinked and shook his head. Had Harry even noticed the other people edging towards him and trying to get his attention once they saw that he had a golden snake?

Abruptly, Harry disappeared. It took Draco a long moment to realize that he was seeing the brim of the Sorting Hat.

 _So sure that you know your destiny, young Malfoy?_

Draco jumped. Of course he knew the truth about how students were placed into their Houses—his parents hadn't thought it right to keep the method from him in the name of tradition—but he hadn't known that having that voice speak right into his _head_ would be so startling.

 _I know where I belong._

 _But you've already begun to change,_ said the Hat slyly. _Young Mr. Potter has changed you._

 _How do you know that?_ But, of course, the Hat could read his mind. Draco felt foolish about the question immediately after he asked it.

 _Don't feel foolish, young man._ There was the indefinable sensation of the Hat turning pages in Draco's head like a book. Draco gripped the edges of the stool so he wouldn't shake his head. _There's a fine mind here. You might do well in Ravenclaw. If you wanted to go there._

 _And be with_ Granger?

The Hat laughed, a sound like velvet rustling in the back of Draco's mind. _I think you are going to be spending a lot of time with Miss Granger, whatever House you end up in and whether or not you want to._

Draco sighed. That was probably true. He looked under the Hat at Harry. Harry still stood there smiling and ready to applaud, and Golden had looped his head over Harry's arm and was watching Draco with eyes that shone like rubies, his tongue darting in and out like a breath of flame.

Draco hesitated. _You could put me in Ravenclaw?_

 _Many students are suited to more than one House. In this case, I am giving you the choice._

Draco thought about it. In Ravenclaw, he would not only spend time with Granger, he also wouldn't have Crabbe or Goyle with him. He might be around people who would expect him to be obsessed with books all the time. He might displease his parents.

 _Would I have Harry with me?_

 _I cannot answer that question without also looking into young Mr. Potter's head._

Of course it couldn't. Draco tapped his heel against the side of his chair and looked sideways at Kali, who sat on his shoulder and looked down her nose at him like a hawk. Draco smiled. He had promised her that she could curl up in his bed in the dungeons and shelter from the cold that way. And that there were lots of shadows to swoop out of so she could frighten people.

 _You've chosen?_

 _Yes._ Draco sneaked a look at Harry. _And who knows? He's pretty manipulative. He might join me there._

"SLYTHERIN!"

* * *

Golden was crawling urgently next to his feet by the time Harry went up to the Sorting Hat. Harry knew why. He'd had years of no one looking at him, even if the Dursleys sometimes seemed to sense that there was a strange presence protecting Harry, and suddenly they were in a world where everyone could see him and no one would stop staring.

Harry stroked Golden's tail once before he sat down on the stool and let the stern professor put the Sorting Hat on his head. He knew everyone was staring at him and murmuring, but that didn't bother him.

Thanks to Draco, he knew why they were staring. His status as someone with a golden familiar was just the way some people thought. It didn't mean he was especially brave or strong or smart or important.

And his status as the Boy-Who-Lived didn't matter to him at all.

 _It's not many who could say that, Harry Potter,_ the Sorting Hat said abruptly into his head, making Harry jump before he thought about it. _You're a strange one. Where did you come by that attitude of yours that you're not important?_

 _Well, the Dursleys always told me that I'm not important,_ Harry said, a little confused.

 _That must change here._ The Sorting Hat could speak pretty urgently for something made of cloth, Harry thought, as urgently as Golden was crawling. _You must know how to wield your importance as a weapon, or someone else will do it for you._

 _Draco told me a little about that. I'm not going to let anyone do it._

 _If you persist in thinking of yourself as unimportant—_

 _It's not that. It's that I don't believe that I'm the savior they all want me to be. But if they listen to me, that's fine. I'm just going to tell them different things than they expect to hear._

There was a long silence, which made Harry wonder if he'd offended the Hat somehow. And then the Hat began to chuckle, a noise that seemed to start far in the back of Harry's head and then run forwards like the whistle of the Hogwarts Express.

 _You have it all planned out, don't you?_

 _Not all of it,_ Harry said firmly. He still didn't know how to make people listen to him who were adults or who were determined to believe that he was this savior, but he did know what he wanted to say. He wanted to say that people with bronze and tin and copper familiars were just as important as anyone else, and they mattered. People should listen to them. People should learn to stand up on their own two feet and be friends with people who had different familiars and different parents and different Houses.

 _Well, then._ The Sorting Hat sounded pleased. _I wondered about where to put you. Your friend Mr. Malfoy seemed to think you might be fit for Slytherin._

Harry shrugged a little. _I like Draco, but I don't think we're the same._

 _No, indeed you are not. And there are qualities in you that would suit you for more than one House, but the task that you've taken on is what burns brightest in your mind. And I suspect you know what you're going to have to do to accomplish it._

Harry knew. _Harder work than I've ever done in my life. I know. But I want to do it._

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

* * *

Ron tried to stand up to the stares that were coming at him as he went up to the Sorting Hat. He was almost the last one. There was just Zabini after him, really, and maybe one other person. Ron had kept staring at the Sorting Hat for the last few minutes, so he really wasn't sure.

On the other hand, that was better than staring at the Hufflepuff table the way he'd been doing for the few minutes before that. One of the twins had finally called, "Would Mum want to see your mouth that way, Ronniekins?" and Arctos had nudged his hand, which made Ron able to shut his mouth and turn away.

But still. Harry Potter, a _Hufflepuff_.

He looked perfectly happy to be there, too, Ron thought glumly as he sat down on the stool. He was already making friends with the Longbottom kid with the silver toad who had been Sorted there before him.

What if he made all sorts of friends in Hufflepuff and left Ron behind?

 _Do you think yourself so forgettable, young Mr. Weasley?_

Ron started. He had been thinking that the Hat just shouted out your House. He didn't know it talked in your head. He swallowed nervously and gripped the sides of the stool.

 _I don't think I'm forgettable. It's just that everyone forgets about me._

The Hat made a sympathetic sound, although Ron thought it was probably laughing at him. That was what everyone else did, he thought grumpily. And for things he hadn't done intentionally, the way they did with the twins. He was just being Ron when they laughed, clumsy Ron, forgettable Ron, sixth and last Ron. Just Ron.

 _With that kind of envy and ambition to be great driving you, you would do well in Slytherin._

 _No! Please, no!_

 _But that would make you different from your brothers._ The Hat sounded coolly amused, the way some other pure-bloods had when they looked down on his family, or on Ron for only having a bronze familiar. _What do you want most?_

The thought came to Ron without him having to think. _To be great. To be noticed. To be different. To be Head Boy. To be a Quidditch champion. To have friends—_

The Hat _was_ laughing this time, a muffled snicker, but the laughter sounded kind. Ron started to relax a little. _I don't see much commitment to hard work. That means that Hufflepuff isn't a consideration._

 _But Slytherin is?_ As little as Ron wanted to be a badger, he wanted to be a slimy snake even less.

 _That is an attitude you will have to get over, it sounds like,_ said the Hat cheerfully. _Young Mr. Potter is already uniting the Houses, and he didn't even know it. And yes, Slytherin could be a consideration. Lots of people who want to be different, and important, and special, beg me to Sort them there._

 _I want to be a Gryffindor!_

 _Do you? Or is it only that you have been told all your life that you should be, so you think you must go there?_

Ron hesitated. He could hear some discounted murmurs from the other students. He thought some of them were probably just bored and wanted their dinner, but he was sure some of them were also his own family, who were wondering why the Hat hadn't just shouted him for Gryffindor right away.

 _I think I really want to be,_ he said slowly, thinking about it. _I mean, I want to have friends. So I don't fit into Slytherin, because everyone there would hate me for my family name._

 _And perhaps for your determination to hate them,_ the Hat pointed out helpfully.

Ron ignored that. _I don't know if I can be Head Boy, but I want to make the marks to do it—_

 _So, Ravenclaw?_

 _But I want to have more than just marks,_ Ron continued hastily. _I want to be friendly, and I want to do so many things—I don't know if I can do them all, but I want to do them—and I want to be Harry's friend, and I want to understand why so many people forget about me, and I'll even be friends with Granger and Malfoy if I have to—even if my brothers tease me, even if my parents are disappointed in me—_

 _And there. There's the courage I was waiting for._

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron discovered his breathing was shallow when he finally ripped the Hat from his head. But Arctos nudged his hand again and padded proudly along beside him as they went to his House's table, and for once the twins and Percy were cheering for Ron.

Just him. Just Ron.

Ron smiled and added a proud swagger of his own to his steps.

* * *

Draco shook his head a little. He wondered what his father would say when he learned that Draco had friends in all three of the other Houses, or at least one friend and two other people Harry would insist that he associate with.

 _Maybe three,_ he thought, noticing the way that Longbottom was cuddling up to Harry.

It was all so _strange_. Draco had been pretty sure that Harry would be either a Slytherin or a Gryffindor, and he would be Sorted into Slytherin as soon as the Hat touched his head, and the other two would probably also be Gryffindors. And he was sure that having a golden familiar made you proud and mighty and respected and everyone who had one would want to take advantage of that.

Now…now he didn't know, he thought, as he watched Blaise Zabini stride over to their table with his silver dove skimming above him, and Professor McGonagall whisking the Sorting Hat away with her bronze cat running beside her, and Professor Dumbledore rising to his feet with his golden phoenix on his shoulder, and Professor Snape staring at all the students with distant, clouded eyes, his silver viper coiled around his neck.

Draco seemed to see all of them differently. He didn't automatically think of Dumbledore as the most powerful person in the room anymore, and he didn't immediately decide that Blaise and Professor Snape must be more powerful than McGonagall. And it was just a Sorting that had changed all that. Just a few minutes. Maybe thirty, for all of the Sorting.

He looked at one of the candles, and the way its flame wavered back and forth. His life had changed _that_ quickly.

"Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" Professor Dumbledore said happily, and his phoenix spread its wings and clapped them as food appeared on their plates.

Then his phoenix took flight, and landed in front of Harry's Golden, and they stared at each other. A second later, Golden reached out to gently touch the phoenix's beak.

Draco shook his head in bewilderment and started eating. At least Harry was smiling and looking more relaxed than he had been on the train.

 _Well. Wait. Maybe that just means he's plotting something_.

Draco had to grin. He couldn't wait to find out what it was.

 **The End.**


	4. An Intimate of Kings

This story follows directly on from "The Breath of a Flame." After what he saw at the Sorting, Severus has a thing or two to say to the Headmaster.

 **An Intimate of Kings**

"I should have known you would come to visit me, Severus."

If Albus had sounded weary or surprised or _anything_ other than cheerful, Severus might have forgiven him. As it was, he only narrowed his eyes and sank into the chair before the desk, checking first to make sure that Fawkes was on his perch. There were times that damn golden phoenix had thought it was funny to preen Severus's hair.

Around his neck, his silver Shadowstriker coiled a few tense turns of muscle. Severus had been unable to calm him much during the feast. Of course, Shadowstriker picked up on all his emotions this time, but it probably also had to do with the damn great snake crawling along at Potter's feet.

The _golden_ snake.

"Are you all right, Severus? Lemon drop? Or perhaps scones with extra cream. I find I'm never so clear-headed as when my stomach is full of cream-"

"Why didn't you tell me that Harry Potter had a golden familiar?"

"Because I didn't know myself until he showed up here. Now, you never told me what you want, a scone or a lemon drop. Or perhaps just the cream by itself. I won't tell Minerva you ate it by itself if you don't."

"How could you-" Severus felt as if someone had sucked all the air out of his chest. Shadowstriker curled up beside him and nudged gently, urgently, at his chin. "How could you not _know?_ You must have checked on him over the years!"

Albus sighed and, for a moment, looked old and serious. "Alas, that is something I did _not_ do. I was so careful to keep Harry away from wizarding influence that I didn't want to show myself. And I couldn't appear and then leave again without being seen the way that an ordinary wizard might be able to do." He nodded at Fawkes, and then added, "Not that he would matter in a Muggle neighborhood, but one of our own might have seen me. And Petunia knows what I look like."

Severus felt himself freeze, all the way through his body. On his shoulder, Shadowstriker reared up as a silver statue. He always had when Severus was that angry.

"You left him," said Severus, and his voice echoed and did odd things in his own ears, "with _Tuney_?"

"What a delightful nickname!" Albus said, sucking on his sweet, and utterly impervious to the glare Severus tried to cast him. "I'd forgotten you knew each other." _Right, old man. You forget nothing._ "But yes, she knows me. I did appear once after she took Harry in, when he was still too young for his familiar to have manifested. I let her know that she _did_ have to keep Harry."

"But not well." Severus leaned forwards and lowered his voice. "You saw as well as I did the runes on the snake's back."

Albus's hand closing into a fist that delayed the next sweet was the only sign he'd heard Severus. "I did," he said. "I do not like the signs. But Harry survived, and he is here now. And with a golden familiar." He chuckled and shook his head. "We shall have to reconsider our plans."

"And my _life_." Severus felt Shadowstriker wrap himself about Severus's neck, but nothing could soothe him right now. "How can I justify maltreating the boy or pretending to know nothing important about him to keep my cover as a spy? When his importance is right there beside him!"

"We will make sure that you do not need to endanger either yourself or Harry, Severus. This does change things. I had no idea that Harry would manifest a golden familiar. Or a snake."

Severus jolted, the way he always did when he heard Albus speak about snakes or Slytherins that way. For a moment, just a moment, he wondered if the great Albus Dumbledore was jealous that there was someone else with a golden familiar in the wizarding world now, and someone whose runes showed that he'd been forced to master magic at a much younger age than even the prodigy Albus had managed.

But then he shook his head. No, that would be ridiculous. Far more likely that Albus was bothered by the fact of Potter's familiar being a snake.

The Dark Lord's had been, after all. And although his Nagini had been silver and not golden, she had been an immense silver python, and had proven the legends—that those with exceptionally large familiars of their color weren't all that different in strength from people in the rank above them—true enough.

"What kind of familiar did you expect Potter to have?" Severus asked. It might be his only chance to ask the question.

Albus sighed and calmed, and Fawkes flew to his shoulder. The phoenix's feathers were so bright that it was sometimes hard to look directly at him, the way it would be with a mirror flashing in the sunlight. Potter's snake was different, Severus thought. More the warm glow of candlelight. "I don't know. A stag, I suppose, like his father."

 _Or a dolphin, like his mother?_ Severus had to admit that he didn't find other people's habit of forgetting Lily and her Serena that irritating, though. It made their memory more purely his and Shadowstriker's.

"Well, he does not." Severus paused, and then decided to dare one more question. Albus might sink back into cryptic riddling any second, but he hadn't so far. "And his Sorting? Did that surprise you?"

"Of course. You know we all expected him to go into Gryffindor."

"Yes, we did," said Severus. He felt foolish now. There was never any guarantee that a child would follow family precedent. He had been fairly sure that Draco would, but he had no knowledge of Potter's recent life as he did of Draco's.

He had climbed to his feet when he thought of something else. He shot a glance at Albus, but he was talking softly with his phoenix in a way Severus knew. Pressing now would earn him smiles and platitudes that would drive him mad until he left in disgust.

He bade Albus good-night and left, one hand stroking Shadowstriker's smooth scales as he made his way to the dungeons to inspect the new crop of Slytherins. But the thought he had had remained on his mind.

The Dark Lord had been not only gifted with a silver python familiar, but also with Parseltongue. That meant he could command any familiar with reptilian ancestry. Shadowstriker, Lucius's silver wyvern Hecate, Bellatrix's bronze and frankly disturbing two-headed Ashwinder, so many other Slytherins'…

It had practically granted him the allegiance of Slytherin House. His blood, his gift, his great snake, and the way their own snakes and dragons and lizards and crocodiles crowded around him. Even now, Severus could remember, with a shiver over his skin, how he had felt when the Dark Lord spoke to Shadowstriker in that language he could not understand. Not violated, only honored, as if the Dark Lord had chosen to notice and caress his soul.

There might be more than one problem with Harry Potter having a boa familiar. Or anaconda. In truth, Severus had not got a good enough look at the thing to be sure what kind of snake it was.

Severus grimaced. Perhaps Albus would not have been able to answer the question for him. Or perhaps it would remain unanswered until the Dark Lord returned. While the Dark Lord was an incredibly powerful wizard and a Parselmouth, Harry Potter still had a golden familiar.

Severus would have to get to know him better than he'd been planning on, when he could have safely ignored his familiar as one more silver one—or even bronze, although he hadn't truly thought the boy would sink that low—and simply hated him for the reflection of James Potter in his face. And he would have to get to know him as a _Hufflepuff._

But Severus never thought of not getting to know him. He had known the Dark Lord well. Now he knew Albus well.

When a new king appeared, it was wise for those who looked to their own survival to become intimate with him.

 _Merlin._ He just hoped the boy liked Potions.


	5. Unafraid of Toil

This immediately follows "An Intimate of Kings." Harry has a lot of work to do, but it's not like he's afraid of that.

 **Unafraid of Toil**

"I don't like him."

Harry patted Neville on the shoulder. One thing he had learned immediately was that Neville was afraid of a lot of things: of someone stepping on Trevor, of not doing well in class, of doing _too_ well and making someone jealous, of acting like he was hogging Harry's time and space, of the noises that echoed down into the Hufflepuff cellars from the castle above them. Harry wanted to give him some confidence.

"I know. We're going to have to take Potions with him this morning, though."

Neville gave a little moan and buried his head in his hands. Harry just went on watching Professor Snape, and feeding bits of his breakfast to Golden.

Cedric Diggory, one of the older Hufflepuffs who seemed to welcome everyone, paused as he went past with his bronze leopard familiar, Nebulous. "All right there, Neville?"

"He's just dreading Potions," said Harry, with a quick smile. "I'm sure he'll be all right when we get into the classroom."

Neville moaned again. Cedric patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Neville. Professor Snape's not easy and he's not what you would call _fair_ , but any one of us can help you with Potions. I'm pretty good at it, and so is Chang, for all that she's only a second year. Come and talk to us after you have the class, okay?"

Neville trembled, but he seemed to be calming down. Or maybe he just thought he had to say something because Cedric had gone out of his way to talk to him, Harry thought. Poor Neville seemed like that, so surprised when anyone was nice to him. "A-all right. I'll remember that, Cedric. Thanks."

Cedric flashed them one more quick smile and gave Harry a faint nod, and went on his way. Harry looked thoughtfully after him. Cedric had told them to call him by his first name right away and he was nice and all, but he still sometimes treated Harry like a golden familiar was something special.

"Harry?"

"Yes?" Harry turned back to Neville. The next piece of bacon he'd picked up was burned, and he decided, in a burst of happiness, that he didn't _have_ to eat it, since he wasn't at the Dursleys' and he could get something else. He gave it to Golden.

"Why are you so friendly with me? I mean, you're _golden_."

Harry looked up. "And your toad is Trevor, but you're not acting like that means you can't be friends with me."

"Don't make fun of me. Please."

Neville looked like he was close to tears, and Harry sighed and nodded. "I'm that way with everyone, Neville. You know I mentioned growing up with Muggles? Well, I had no idea that my snake was special except that they couldn't see him. When I found out that I was a wizard, I just thought everyone had familiars. I didn't realize there was this, this _hierarchy_ based on who had silver and gold and tin and copper. And bronze," he added, after thinking about it for a second and remembering who he was forgetting.

"Okay. But now you know. So why aren't you—I don't know, going and finding out who the people with the most powerful silver familiars are, and being friends with _them_? I know that you're friends with Malfoy and Granger."

"Right. And Hermione's Muggleborn, and she can't do all these special spells with Regina that you can't with Trevor. And Draco's a bit of a prat." Harry had to smile as he thought of the way he had looked patiently at Draco when Draco had started talking rubbish about Hufflepuffs. "So I don't pay much attention to what he says."

"But _everyone knows_ people with golden familiars are more powerful."

"Not me. I haven't cast a single spell yet." Their classes had just been theory so far, except for Herbology and Astronomy, but those didn't involve spells.

"Those runes," Neville said, and dropped his voice as he leaned forwards, pointing with the side of his hand at Golden's back. Harry had learned that people thought it was rude to point at familiars with your finger. "They came from _somewhere_."

"Right, but it's the same place as accidental magic from where I Apparated onto the roof when my cousin and his gang were chasing me. I don't know how to _control_ it. That's what we're here to learn. So it's silly to talk about me being more powerful than anyone else. What good is power if you can't do anything with it?"

Neville hesitated. Then he asked, "You really don't know any spells?"

"Some of the ones that were in the books I got, but I realized I would get in trouble for underage magic if I actually did any of them." Harry laughed as Golden reached up past him and gulped some of the bacon off his plate. Harry wasn't eating fast enough to suit him. "Sorry, Golden."

"I never thought such a powerful familiar with have an ordinary name, either."

"I called him that when I was a baby and he won't let me change it." Harry snorted as he thought of some of the other names he'd tried. Golden had utterly ignored him, sunbathing or stalking mice until Harry had used the name he approved of.

"Huh." Neville was blinking, and Harry thought he might have almost convinced him that he was just an ordinary person.

"I _want_ you to be my friend. If you really want to treat me like someone whose every word you have to obey, well, obey that one. Be my friend."

Neville laughed a little and shook his head. "There's something wrong with your logic, I know, but it's pretty hard to argue with."

Harry just kept smiling at him, one hand held out. "Well? Are you going to be my friend or not?"

Neville hesitated long enough that Harry thought he might consider turning away, and then he caught Harry's hand and pumped it firmly. "Yes. I just—I hope you don't regret being friends with me."

"I don't think I'll be able to," said Harry comfortably, and stood up with a casual twist of his hand that brought Neville to his feet, too. Neville stood there, blinking. Harry grinned. Golden had taught him that one. There were advantages to being able to twist like a snake. "Come on, let's go to Potions."

* * *

Severus stood in front of the class of mixed first-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws with Shadowstriker curled around his neck, eyes motionless on the children. That intimidated most of them, and they scuttled to their seats.

But Potter lingered near the door, talking with a frizzy-haired girl in a Ravenclaw tie. There was a silver weasel on her shoulder and an expression of such intense hopefulness on her face that Severus was sure she was a Muggleborn.

 _That philosophy will not endear him to the Slytherins._

But then he remembered the way that Draco had watched Potter's Sorting last night, and frowned a little. And next to Potter, wasn't that the Longbottom boy? With a _toad_ of all familiars clutched in his hands, but still, a silver toad. And a pure-blood boy.

Severus wondered why and how Potter had made those friends.

He cleared his throat, and the Ravenclaw girl jumped at once and practically ran to her seat. Potter motioned Longbottom to a seat at the second bench back from the front, smiling at him all the while. That golden snake crawled next to Longbottom and wrapped itself around his feet. Severus, seeing it closely, thought it was definitely an anaconda.

Potter finally parted from the frizzy-haired girl and took his place beside Longbottom. _That_ boy looked as if he would faint should Severus breathe wrong. Severus held back a roll of his eyes with an effort and touched his hand to Shadowstriker's neck. His viper hissed loudly. There was an immediate silence, and people fixed their eyes on him and sat up straighter.

"You are here to learn _Potions_ ," Severus began, a variation of the speech he had used for the Gryffindors and Slytherins. "Not watered-down Herbology, not the mere making of salves adjacent to Healing magic, not a class that the governors have added to the curriculum to punish you for obscure reasons. Potions are an end in themselves, and one that you will need far more than some of the aspects of Astronomy and History of Magic."

Most of the Ravenclaw students had ink and parchment out already, and were writing, but. Well. Ravenclaws. Severus turned to watch the Hufflepuffs, who were sometimes tolerable and sometimes Gryffindors in disguise.

Potter was whispering to the Longbottom boy. Severus felt his lip curl. Lily's son or not, Potter was going to be _respectful_ , at least, or Severus wouldn't bother trying to get to know him or protect him.

"Mr. Potter! Would you be pleased to tell me what a bezoar is?"

"I don't know for sure, Professor Snape," Potter said, blinking at him as if he didn't see what a teacher would find disgusting about him talking to another student during the introduction to class. "But it's some kind of stone, I think? It might cure poisons?"

"Are you asking me or _telling_ me, Potter?"

Under the lash of his voice, Potter sat up straighter, and his jaw became firm. "Telling you, sir."

"Yes, indeed it is," said Severus, and turned on the Longbottom boy. Potter's reply had been disrespectful enough that he felt no overwhelming desire to give him points for Hufflepuff. Then again, that desire rarely overwhelmed him. "You, Longbottom! What are the ingredients of the Draught of Living Death?"

"A-asphodel, and—" The Longbottom boy looked as if he would pass out, and he was clutching his toad familiar so hard that it croaked miserably. From the corner of his eye, Severus could see a Ravenclaw hand rising, and wasn't startled it belonged to the frizzy-haired girl. Probably wanted to show off her own smarts.

"Answer me, Longbottom." Severus's eyes pierced Longbottom's, and caught a glimpse of the boy shivering in humiliation before the taunts of an older wizard who was stigmatizing him for having a toad. Severus wanted to roll his eyes. The boy should be _used_ to that by now. Silver or not, an amphibian wasn't impressive in the way a snake or a bird of prey was.

"Asphodel," Longbottom whispered, staring at his desk. "That's all I remember."

"Isn't the Draught of Living Death a fifth-year potion, sir?" said Potter, his voice anxious to help. He patted Longbottom's shoulder with one hand. "I thought I remember hearing that from some of the older Hufflepuff students who are tutoring me."

"Think yourself above reading ahead, Potter?" Severus swept over to stand in front of him. He didn't try to use Legilimency on him, not yet. Those green eyes still disconcerted him. "Can't read your textbooks on your own?"

"Why are you asking first-year students about a fifth-year potion, sir?" Potter asked. And his eyes were…

He looked as if he were _disappointed_ in Severus.

Severus spun away in fury. Only two people in the world had the right to disapprove of his actions, and one was dead and the other was the Headmaster. He should have known that just because he had a golden familiar, Potter would pride himself as being above Severus.

"Wormwood is the other major ingredient in the Draught of Living Death," he said, and felt Shadowstriker hiss out in displeasure near his ear, catching his mood. "Ten points from Hufflepuff—five for your ignorance, Mr. Longbottom, and five for your utter _cheek_ , Mr. Potter. Copy these instructions down." He flicked his wand, and the correct instructions appeared on the board. "Go, _now_!"

* * *

"He was awful, Harry. Just awful. The way I thought he would be!"

That was the sound of someone moaning to Harry, and Draco frowned and stopped where he was. He had learned that if he wanted to talk to Harry and Harry was already talking to someone else who was complaining, he would have to wait.

And he would probably have to wait longer than usual, because this person was Longbottom, from the sound of his voice. Longbottom was scared of everything, and Harry was spending a lot of time with him because, he said, Longbottom needed help to be brave.

For now, Draco leaned on the corridor wall around the corner from where Harry and Longbottom were standing, and stroked Kali's neck as she landed on his shoulder. She nudged his cheek and spread her wings, leaning forwards to peer at the corner. She liked Golden, and always wanted to be around him when they were near Harry.

Draco hushed her. He wanted to avoid any contact with Longbottom, but he'd also come too far to just walk away without seeing Harry. All the way to the Hufflepuff common room, almost. He would just stand here and wait for Harry to be done.

"But how can I make myself braver? Snape will never accept it. He just hates me because I couldn't answer his stupid questions."

Draco blinked. That was unexpected. He thought Professor Snape mostly hated Gryffindors.

"He snapped at me, too. I think he doesn't like it that I was asking him questions about his questions. We'll get through this, Neville. You just have to remember not to explode in tears and trembling. It's just a Potions class, finally. It's not going to control the rest of your life."

 _Professor Snape snapped at_ Harry? That seemed so wrong to Draco that he steadied Kali on his shoulder and stepped around the corner.

Harry turned around and looked at him, while Longbottom gulped and shrank and fastened his eyes on the floor. Draco looked curiously at both of them. "What do you mean about Professor Snape snapping at you?"

"He asked me what a bezoar was," Harry said. "I could sort of answer it, but not really. And he asked Neville about the ingredients of the Draught of Living Death, and Neville could only name one. So I asked him why he was asking us a question that wasn't meant for first-years, because that isn't a first-year potion. He got upset and took points from Hufflepuff."

Draco had to shake his head again. "He didn't do anything like that in our Potions class. Took a few points from a Gryffindor who was messing around with his cauldron and almost got the potion all over himself, but that's it. And he _hates_ Gryffindors."

"I think he might hate me, too."

Draco wanted to say that Longbottom was really too much of a non-entity for anyone to hate him, but he had to nibble his lip and stop when he thought what Harry would say about that. "He probably doesn't," Draco finally muttered. "He likes to pick on people, and he does it with questions like that."

"So he didn't ask you questions about fifth-year potions?"

"No. About what we knew about potions, and he told us we wouldn't be using our wands in there. That's it."

Harry nodded. His eyes were narrowed, and Draco was reminded of the way he'd talked on the train when he said that having a golden familiar didn't make him special. "I'm going to go ask him another question."

"You'll get _detention_ , Harry," said Longbottom in a hiss, which made Draco happy that he knew more about Harry than Longbottom did. As if considerations like that would stop someone with a golden familiar and a determined look on his face.

But Draco did have to agree with Longbottom in one respect. "There's no reason for you to do that, Harry. He'll get used to you and go along with you in a little while. But don't confront him about it now."

"Why? He picked on me _and_ Neville the first day. Why would he decide to get along with me in a little while?"

Draco hesitated once, then admitted, "I don't think he's used to the idea that you have a golden familiar yet. And it's a snake. The symbol of Slytherin House. He'll get used to you and treat you better because of that."

"Will he treat Neville better?"

"Neville only has a silver—"

Despite Longbottom's frantic nods to show he agreed with him, Harry stood up taller and straighter and said, "That's _stupid_." And then he turned and marched down the corridor towards Professor Snape's office.

Draco exchanged apprehensive looks with Longbottom, the first time he'd ever thought about doing that with a Hufflepuff, and then they turned and hurried after Harry. He didn't know if he would manage to talk Harry out of confronting Professor Snape, but he had to at least try.

* * *

Harry knew Draco and Neville were following him. Golden cocking his head so he could look back would have warned him if nothing else did. But he went on marching. There were some things that had to be done.

"Harry, please don't do this for me."

"Longbottom's right. Professor Snape would just get angrier if he thought you were standing up for—"

"What? A student who doesn't have a golden familiar?" Harry's hand shook with his anger as he knocked on Snape's door. "That's _ridiculous_ , Draco. Everyone here doesn't have a golden familiar except me and the Headmaster. I'm not just going to sit back and let Professor Snape do whatever he wants because—"

"Because I have the right to control my classroom, Potter?"

Harry turned around. There was Snape with his silver serpent coiled around his throat, and looming like he was about to fall on them. Neville moaned and crept back towards the corner.

But Harry wasn't afraid. Golden reared beside him, and Harry knew if some danger really threatened, Golden would get in between him and it, the way he always had when Uncle Vernon was really threatening Harry.

"You didn't have the right to ask fifth-year questions unless you're going to do it of all the classes, Professor," Harry told him. "And Draco already told me that you didn't ask _his_ class. So why are you asking Neville? I know he's scared, but that's the point. Aren't teachers supposed to see a scared student and _help_ them? Professor McGonagall did."

Snape's nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. His snake reared up and stuck its tongue out. Harry could hear words in the sliding hiss. _Insolent human, standing up to my human! Just because his snake is gold doesn't mean he can!_

"I don't think he can be unfair just because he's an adult, either," Harry told the snake at once. "Or just because he's your human. Neville and Trevor didn't ask for this."

He looked back at Professor Snape, only to find him standing there, his eyes darting back and forth between Harry and his snake. Then he whispered, "Familiars do not speak. Not into your mind."

"No, I know that," Harry said, startled into responding. "And Golden doesn't talk often, anyway. He'd much rather stuff his gut with food." Golden nudged at his boot, but it was true, so he couldn't say anything. "But sometimes he says things aloud. Once a month, maybe. He was the one who told me my Hogwarts letter was real."

Snape was just staring at him as if his eyes were about to fall out of his head. Harry didn't know why. He'd only told the truth. Some other Hufflepuff students had told him Professor Snape always knew when someone was lying. So he shouldn't be surprised now, right?

* * *

 _The boy is a Parselmouth. The boy is a_ Parselmouth.

Knowing that he had correctly predicted this to Albus did not make it less terrifying.

Severus did not retreat, because that would imply that he thought Potter was right. He shook his head and murmured, "You are very new to our world, Potter. _Obviously._ You have yet to understand the right notions of hierarchy."

"Draco and Neville were trying to tell me about that." Potter folded his arms. "Something about how I'm better than them because I have a golden familiar and it was all right for you to treat Neville the way he does because he has a silver one. But _you_ have a silver one, too, sir. Doesn't that mean you ought to treat Neville like an equal?"

Behind Potter, Draco had one hand over his mouth and one over his eyes, but he was peeking between his fingers as if he couldn't help himself. Longbottom looked ready to faint. At least Severus knew that neither of them had put the Potter boy up to this.

But that only left him with another dilemma. How to speak to someone with a golden snake, a Parselmouth, who said things like _this_?

"I have the right to treat my students how I wish, Potter—"

"Not if you treat them poorly, sir." Potter had suddenly dropped the imposing attitude he'd been trying to maintain, and didn't even have his arms folded anymore. He just leaned forwards and held Severus's eye as if he wanted to convince him by sheer force of will. "You still need to treat them fairly and only punish them if they _really_ do something wrong. Otherwise, what should make us respect you?"

Severus stared at him. The look in his eyes and the eloquence made the years fall away, and it was Lily standing before him, arguing passionately for the Headmaster to be fair to Severus and punish the "Marauders."

"You should respect me because I am your professor," said Severus, but his voice was faint, and not even Shadowstriker coiling closer to his throat was comforting.

Potter shrugged a little, staring at him, and Severus knew in a flash that that would never make _this_ one roll over and curl up. And of all the students down the years who had infuriated him—beginning with some of the pure-bloods in his first years who still knew him as a Death Eater, and down to the Weasley twins—this was the one he was afraid of, because Potter had the power to enforce his will where none of the others had.

 _He has a golden familiar. He has people on his side who can teach him how to use that status even if he doesn't know right now._ Severus's eyes traveled to Draco and Longbottom. _And he will use it to defend a friend. He's a bloody Hufflepuff!_

It seemed he would be forced to choose a side long before he had thought he would be. Stiffly, Severus inclined his head. "Allow me to—apologize," he said. "I will ask all my classes questions at the same level from now on."

Potter looked at him unblinking, then shrugged. "You can ask us all fifth-year questions if you want, sir, but then you'll fail more students than ever."

 _Damn!_ He hadn't expected a Hufflepuff to recognize the ambiguities in his words, or for there to be a proudly beaming Slytherin behind him. Potter was intelligent, not only a user of brute force.

"I don't understand something," Potter continued, and his voice was calm and thoughtful. "You could just teach to the best of your ability, and _then_ you wouldn't have to fail as many students, either. Or spend time snapping at them. Why don't you just do that?" He stared at Severus again, his eyes coming back from wherever they had been.

Severus bit his lip against the temptation to snarl. This _child_ understood him not at all, and did not understand the reasons that made him what he was, and yet dared to condescend to Severus.

And yet again, he had to remind himself of what this _child_ was, and what could happen to Severus if he defied him too soon. Or at all.

"I am not that kind of teacher," Severus said, the kind of response that would spare him the worst rebellion and the worst questioning, both at once.

Potter leaned forwards as if this was supremely enlightening, and his golden snake stirred beside him. Longbottom refused to look. Draco was staring between Potter and Severus as if he had never seen anything more fascinating.

"Oh," Potter breathed. "It has to do with what kind of person you are."

"Yes," said Severus warily. Potter speaking to Shadowstriker in Parseltongue again would be preferable. At the moment, he had _no_ idea what was going on.

"Then I'll have to think about it," Potter said. "I only want to change some things people think. I don't want to change what kind of person they are." He nodded to Severus with what might have been genuine respect, and then turned and walked away.

Severus stared after him. Longbottom followed with a timid glance at Severus, but Draco kept watching him for a second.

"You should listen to him," he said. "He's extraordinary."

And he hurried away, already calling out for Potter and Longbottom to wait. Severus blinked. The son of Lucius Malfoy did not lightly call anyone or anything "extraordinary."

He made his way back to his desk, stroking Shadowstriker, who had coiled around his throat and said nothing. He wondered if Harry Potter was a side all his own, or something more nebulous than that.

 _Potentially more threatening._

But he also thought he might try being kinder to Longbottom next week, and seeing what happened. It was not—possible to do otherwise, to reason in advance of the data.

 _I am not sure what is going to change. But I know the future will be different._


	6. Chains of Gold

**Author's Notes:** The next chapter in my Children of the Sun series, and the third of my July Celebration fics for this year. This chapter takes place in parallel with, and then after, "Unafraid of Toil."

 **Chains of Gold**

"I want you to read this."

Narcissa raised one eyebrow and reached for the letter. Lucius was staring at the far wall, and he usually didn't do that except sometimes when letters came from the Ministry announcing a sweep of the house for Dark objects and he was plotting how to hide them. This was from Draco.

Narcissa skimmed the first few lines, and began to understand what her husband was talking about.

"He mentions Harry Potter five times in these three sentences alone," she murmured, and pinned the parchment to the table with a slim nail. Next to her, her silver snow leopard, Venus, lifted her head and snaked it around to the side to see the letter as well. "And—Potter has a golden familiar? Surely not."

"Would _our_ son mistake bronze for gold? Or any other color?"

"I do not think he would," Narcissa said. "But you know as well as I that not even the Dark Lord had a golden familiar. Would the boy who defeated him really be more powerful?"

Lucius sighed. Hecate, his silver wyvern, who was looming over the table as usual, tried to steal a bite of the sliced fruit in the middle of the table, which would make her vomit later; wyverns were only supposed to eat meat and poison. Lucius absently wrapped his arm around Hecate's neck and dragged her back. "Perhaps that is how he defeated him."

"Perhaps."

Narcissa was wise enough to know that part of the reason she didn't want to admit that Potter could have a golden familiar was because Lucius had chosen to follow the Dark Lord. That he might have picked a man who was less powerful than a one-year-old baby…

It would entail rethinking and redoing on a scale that Narcissa was not comfortable with.

"What should we do in the short term?"

Venus's purr redoubled, probably because she could feel Narcissa's uncertainty through their bond. Narcissa smoothed her chin and moved her head aside when she truly did nothing else. "Write back, of course. And see what Draco says about Potter in his future letters. If he seems on his way to being unduly influenced by him, then we can do something about it."

Lucius nodded, his eyes flat with determination. Narcissa suspected he was trying to keep Draco from falling into the same trap he had, following a man who was not worthy.

Narcissa would be just as pleased if her son never followed _anyone_. Golden familiars were rare enough that they essentially didn't count in the hierarchy. Draco, with his silver miniature dragon, could excel at whatever he wanted, and achieve whatever position he wanted.

As long as he did not let himself be bound by chains of loyalty too young.

* * *

"How many references to Potter in this particular letter?" Narcissa asked, looking up from lunch. Venus, stomach full of meat, dozed on the floor next to her. She was grateful for it. And she would try to remain calm this time, so as not to stir up her familiar.

No matter _what_ the letter said.

"Only two." Lucius read further down into it, and then sat up abruptly and made a motion with his mouth that Narcissa suspected would have been a swear word without her present. Narcissa frowned and sat up further. She would forgive Lucius that mistake only because they were in the oak-paneled luncheon room instead of in public.

"What is it?"

"Draco writes that…that Harry Potter is a Parselmouth." Lucius's voice was faint, and he reached out as if he needed, for once, to feel the support of Hecate's rough scales beneath his fingers instead of restraining her.

Hecate immediately nuzzled up to him, while Narcissa sat still. She understood the reason for Lucius's shock. A Parselmouth could speak to any reptilian familiar and, if not actually control it, at least strongly persuade it.

Lucius and Draco both had to beware. Narcissa did not, since Venus was feline, but she hardly liked seeing her family so vulnerable.

"What do you intend to do about it? And how does Draco seem to feel about it?"

"I don't know yet. And he says—he says that Potter doesn't think it's anything special. And he doesn't think _he's_ anything special, either. He doesn't really understand the hierarchy." Narcissa was sure that Lucius must have had time to read the whole of the letter by now, but he kept letting his eyes return to individual lines as if he didn't understand the impact of the whole. "He was raised by Muggles. That must be it."

"But when a naïve child is introduced into a world that thinks him so special…"

"He must be different than Draco in more ways than simply who raised him, Narcissa."

Narcissa could only shake her head. It was not only Draco. She could imagine many children liking their place at the top of the hierarchy. If the world had treated them badly—if they had only a copper or a tin familiar—then they would perhaps decide to ignore everyone above them, but not when they held the power.

Yet she knew Draco wouldn't have mistaken the signs of wanting power, not after they had so carefully trained the knowledge into him. And for now, she had to trust her son, since she didn't have the opportunity of observing Potter for herself.

"We'll write a bland, encouraging letter back for now," she said, and found herself reaching down to smooth a hand over Venus's head after all, tracing the runes shaved into the fur at the base of her snow leopard's neck. "And I think that I might have to arrange a visit to Hogwarts."

Lucius gave her a faint smile. "The Board of Governors has a meeting there next week. Would you like to come along?"

Narcissa half-bowed to him from her chair, pleased that they understood each other so well. "I would indeed."

* * *

Narcissa stood in the entrance of the Great Hall, shrouded in a Disillusionment Charm, along with Venus. If she stood to one side—and waited until after the beginning of the lunch rush, which she'd done—there was little chance of someone running into her and revealing her presence to the students.

And the professors. They were, of course, the greater concern.

Potter was easily visible at the Hufflepuff table. He was late, and so Narcissa did get to see him arrive. She saw the way that people trained in the hierarchy shifted, humans and familiars alike, trying to place him in a seat at the center. Potter had laughed at them and taken a place at the end of a bench instead, speaking with all sorts of people, including a bushy-haired Ravenclaw and what was unmistakably a Weasley, now and then dropping a hand to feed something to his _golden_ anaconda.

 _Draco wasn't mistaken after all._

Narcissa spent some time carefully investigating the other Hufflepuffs seated around Potter. There was a Longbottom—probably—clutching a familiar that glowed silver, although it also looked like a frog, and a tall, strikingly handsome boy with a bronze leopard at his side. Venus growled a little as she sighted them. Narcissa stroked her back.

Dumbledore began to pay more attention to her corner of the entrance than she liked, and Narcissa withdrew slowly. But she did manage to glance over at the Slytherin table, too, and see her son.

And the lack of worship in his eyes reassured her. He did look over and smile at Potter, but he spent a lot of time talking to his friends, too, and patiently correcting the lapses of manners in those walking hulks he felt protective of, Crabbe and Goyle, and preventing their tin polecat and adder, respectively, from snatching food off the table.

Narcissa turned on her heel and left, well-satisfied.

* * *

"He _does_ respect Potter. But he's not his slave."

Lucius nodded slowly and flicked the paper in front of him. "The _Prophet_ has finally realized there's someone in the world with a golden familiar who's not Dumbledore."

Narcissa picked up the paper and studied the article. It had a blurred photograph of Potter and his snake—whose name was apparently Golden—and a babble of the same information that she'd found out by standing in the Great Hall yesterday. She shook her head. "As long as Draco isn't too loyal to him, what should our next step be?"

Lucius touched her hand with his own. His eyes were shining.

"I _do_ wonder what a naïve boy who only has his friends and his familiar to depend on might do for a mentor who approached him and was kind to him."

"I wonder, too," Narcissa said, with a smile, and picked up his hand to kiss it.

At her side, Venus purred.


	7. Silver Shadow Snake

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Harry was watching Professor Quirrell again. No one else ever seemed to do that. They were disgusted by the way he spoke, or the way he smelled, with all the garlic under his turban, and they would just laugh and look away.

But Harry didn't think anyone else had watched long enough to notice what _he_ saw. Quirrell's familiar, a bronze rabbit, always stayed near him, crouched next to him on the table and nibbling from his plate. Harry thought that the rabbit was probably like Golden; she didn't _need_ to eat, since she could just live on her wizard's magic, but she wanted to, as a kind of reassurance. Golden ate because he liked the taste and they were in a different place now.

Harry knew that Golden hadn't eaten a lot around him when they were young because he hadn't wanted to take the food that the Dursleys would give Harry. But now that they were at Hogwarts, he ate all the time.

Not like Quirrell's rabbit, though, whose name was Alanna. She was always flinching, even harder than the professor himself did.

And Golden didn't have a _smaller_ familiar inside him, either.

Harry had actually thought it was a worm at first, but he'd asked around a little under the guise of being a wide-eyed child, and making friends. And he _did_ want to make friends. He thought that made people answer him honestly. The other part of it was that they all wanted to talk to someone with a golden familiar, because they thought he was going to do great things and they wanted to be part of them.

Harry planned to put a stop to _that_ as soon as he could.

Anyway. Familiars didn't get worms, or other animal diseases. Most of the time, the only thing that could kill them was when their wizard or witch died. On occasion, they could get corrupted if their person practiced enough Dark Arts, but even that was rare and took insanity or a lack of control.

So there was no reason that Harry knew of for the small silver snake that floated, transparent, near Alanna's neck and ears.

But Harry thought that both she and Quirrell were in trouble. And he intended to help.

* * *

Narcissa sat back from the letter, and nodded slowly. Even for a child as skilled in subtlety as her Draco was, it made a pretty trap. And while Harry Potter was certainly powerful, nothing she had heard about him pointed to any sense of subtlety.

She would offer him a mentor, she thought as she reached down and stroked Venus's fur, making her rumble with contentment. She would offer him kindness. If he didn't know his own place at the top of the hierarchy, or at least didn't intuitively understand it, that would be all the harder to resist. He would be unused to thinking of himself as the _dispenser_ of good things, and would position himself as beneficiary.

At the same time, Narcissa would make sure that he would have no reason to think of himself as dominant over Draco. She would plant a few doubts about the natural powers of golden familiars. About the _rightness_ of using Parselmouth to command reptilian ones like Kali. And she would teach him that the Malfoys were right, and Draco the natural leader for him to follow.

 _By all rights, it should have been me gifted with a golden familiar,_ she thought idly as she stood up to post the letter.

But it did not matter. After the snare was spun, she would have the use of one as an extension of her will.

* * *

Harry went to Professor Quirrell first. Golden reared up beside him and examined Alanna with interest. That made Alanna shriek and dive behind the professor. Harry winced.

"Sorry for that, Professor Quirrell," he said. "But I wanted to ask you about the snake that Alanna has inside her."

Professor Quirrell had been reaching back to pet his rabbit. But now he recoiled and got papers all over the floor from the way his hand was swinging. Harry frowned. Professor Quirrell looked as scared as Dudley did when Golden reared up and swatted him away with his tail. But Dudley couldn't _see_ Golden. Harry knew Professor Quirrell had to be able to see the snake.

"W-what are y-you t-talking about, M-Mr. P-P-P-Potter?"

"That snake, right there," Harry said, and pointed at the shadow that was inside Alanna's ears right now. "It sort of moves around, but I can always see it. It's silver, and she's bronze, so I thought maybe she was sick. I could try to talk to it?" he offered. Now that he knew he was a Parselmouth, because Draco and Neville and some other people had explained it to him, he knew he might be good at talking to snakes.

Professor Quirrell only stared at him as if Harry had done something horrible, before he shook his head abruptly and grabbed up Alanna protectively. "No! It's nothing!"

"But, sir—"

"She's _fine_! You will not threaten my familiar, Potter!"

Harry sighed. Professor Quirrell was probably one of those people who thought Harry liked being at the top of the hierarchy and would threaten anyone who didn't have a golden familiar themselves. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just thought she was sick and I wanted to help heal her."

"Out of my classroom! This _instant_!"

Harry frowned and left, with Golden crawling beside him. Something was bothering him, but it wasn't until they were in Herbology and Neville was showing him the right way to pick up a Burning Bush that he realized what it was.

Professor Quirrell hadn't stuttered on those last few words at _all_.

* * *

"Did you get the letter from my mother?"

A few days had gone by without Harry saying anything, and Draco _had_ to know. Mother had written to him that she would write to Harry—or Potter, because she called him that. She said that he needed a mother, and Draco knew there was no one better in the whole world than _his_ Mother.

But if Harry didn't say anything, that might mean he didn't agree. And Draco had started dancing up and down so much, or juggling his leg back and forth, when he was thinking about it, that Kali had started to hiss and swipe at him.

He stared hard at Harry now, who blinked at him as if he didn't know what he was talking about. Well, they were sitting at the Hufflepuff table and Harry had been talking to Longbottom, but a conversation with _Longbottom_ was—just not as important.

"What? Oh, yeah, I did. It was strange."

"Why?"

"Because she said all these things about helping me find my place and my power." Harry shook his head and pulled out a folded piece of parchment from his pocket. Draco had to admit that it did look like the creamy parchment Mother would use. "She misunderstood something, right? Because she must know that I don't want to use my power. And my place is Hogwarts."

Draco swallowed slowly. Something was wrong, but he didn't think he had the words. He took the letter away from Harry. "I'll, uh, read it and get back to you. Maybe she did misunderstand something."

"Thanks, Draco! I don't want to be rude to her. It was nice of her to write to me. I just don't understand." Harry stood up and grabbed a piece of bread and said to Longbottom, "It's time for us to go stand up to Snape again." Then he was off, Golden slithering beside him.

Longbottom gave Draco a hopeless look. Probably because he was the only one around, Draco thought, but he found he couldn't look away, even when Kali, sitting on his shoulder, nudged at his hand impatiently.

"He doesn't understand, does he?" Longbottom whispered. His toad leaped onto his shoulder and croaked dismally.

"No."

Longbottom nodded and then sighed. "I hate Professor Snape, but I'm not going to let Harry get hurt." He reached up to hold the toad onto his shoulder and hurried after Harry.

Draco looked down at the letter in his hands, and without even having read it, he knew the same thing was true of him.


	8. Silver Shadow Snake, Part Two

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Severus watched warily as Harry Potter lingered behind the rest of his House. Even Longbottom had left as soon as he could, for all that Severus tried to control his tongue in class.

 _Why am I doing such a thing? Why do I let a child intimidate me so?_

Then the enormous golden snake coiled next to Potter put his head casually on one of the tables, and Severus barely restrained a shudder that made Shadowstriker squeeze tighter around his throat. Yes, _that_.

"I wanted to ask you something, Professor Snape." Potter's tone was earnest. It always was. Severus would have suspected the boy of having no sense of humor, except that he'd seen him laughing with Granger in the library and with Draco in the corridors between classes. "I have to know what would make a familiar get sick."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "You believe _I_ would know, boy? Talk to Professor Kitter, she teaches Familiar Magic—"

"I don't mean that. I think it's a sickness that only a Parselmouth can see. Because I've asked, and no one else sees it, even other people who have reptile familiars like Draco. And I don't think you can see it, or you would have done something about it already."

Severus felt himself dropping deeper and deeper into bewilderment as he listened. "Potter, what are you going _on_ about?"

"Professor Quirrell's familiar. She's a bronze rabbit, I know that, but she has a silver snake floating around inside her. I tried to talk to him about it, and he told me to go away. Do you know what it could be, sir?"

Severus felt as though his ears had abruptly acquired a touch of frostbite. He resisted the urge to touch the Mark on his left arm under the sleeve. The snake on it was silver in the right light, a reminder of the Dark Lord's familiar.

It only increased his suspicions about Quirrell.

But other than a floating Mark—which would have been risky and ridiculous to put on someone's _familiar_ , anyway—he had no idea what Potter could be talking about. Impatience and wariness made his voice rough, made his hand rise to touch Shadowstriker. "I have no idea, Potter. Leave it to me. I will investigate it. I have access to many more books than you do."

"But if you could just tell me the right area of the Hogwarts library to look in—"

Severus gave the boy a flat, incredulous look. "Do you _hear_ yourself, Potter?"

"Yes, sir? Did I use a word wrong?"

Severus met Potter's impossible green eyes, and ended up turning away, the way he always did—the way he always would. He cursed himself for a coward, but still kept his face averted as he said curtly, "You cannot investigate such a thing. You are hardly an experienced researcher." Potter stood there in unconvinced silence, and Severus bit out, annoyed that he even had to mention it, "You are a _child_."

"With respect, sir, I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"You insolent brat—"

"No, really, sir, I mean it. People are always telling me that I have power because I have a golden familiar, and that means I should _do_ things, right? They don't listen when I tell them that I'm no one special. And there's the scar and what they think I did to Voldemort, too. So I need to go ahead and make things more comfortable for people if I can. Since I have this power I didn't want."

Severus stared at Potter in absolute silence. Potter's eyes were glowing with conviction as absolute. No one else could turn Lily aside when she was feeling righteous, either, Severus remembered absently. As witness him, and the friendship she had tried so hard to keep alive even when he was doing his best to spit and trample on it.

The reminder made a fresh wave of agony run through him. Severus said, "If I find that you have been sneaking out of bed in an attempt to cure a sickness that is _none of your business_ , Mr. Potter, you will have detention for the rest of the year. Now get out of my sight, and—thank you for alerting me of your suspicions." The words stuck in his throat as if he was trying to swallow a bowl of thick soup.

Potter only looked at him with a steady gaze, and then nodded. He turned, and his snake twined around his leg for a minute before he uncoiled so Potter could walk.

In the meantime, Severus stroked his viper down the back and lost himself once more in the memories of the friend he had lost, and never deserved.

* * *

Narcissa shook her head slowly as she looked down at the letter Draco had sent her. She supposed that even the cleverest mind must experience failure sometimes. But she could not really believe that she had failed to ensnare the Potter boy. Surely he was not so intelligent or powerful that he could resist such a trap?

But she might be imagining something now, or misinterpreting Draco's letter the way she had misinterpreted his hints about Harry Potter. So she went from the sunny owlery where she had received the letter to the ground floor where Lucius had his study. A perfunctory knock, and she entered, ignoring the way Hecate hissed at her. That was for show. Venus growled back, and Hecate laid her head down on the other side of the desk.

"What is it, my love?"

Narcissa smiled at Lucius as she held out the letter. She had found very little reason to be proud of her family once she understood the madness that consumed them so often, the result of experimenting on their own familiars instead of trusting them to guard and express their magic. But she was glad that her parents had deemed Lucius a suitable husband. "I sent Harry Potter a letter with the intention of enticing him into an alliance with us—a mentorship with me, specifically. Somehow, he resisted. And this is the letter Draco wrote me about it. I want help in making sure that I'm not misstepping with this letter as I did with that one."

Lucius read, while Narcissa took her place in the chair on the other side of the desk. Hecate was large enough to drape her neck over most of its back. Narcissa reached up and delicately stroked the underside of the wyvern's neck, getting a rumbling purr and a flash of the runes she and Lucius had created in Hecate's scales over the years.

"No," Lucius said at last, slowly. "I don't think it's your fault for not thinking of something obvious. I think it's probably Draco. He must have been wrong about how naïve Potter was. Why would he refuse a mentorship otherwise?"

"And the part where he reported that Potter said I'm being _nice_ , but he doesn't need help finding his place?"

"I have no doubt those are the exact words Potter said. The problem is, Draco took them at face value. Do we have to?"

"No," Narcissa said, her mind already turning in other directions, other ways of making that immense golden power serve Malfoy goals. "We do not."

* * *

"Y-you will f-find that some f-familiars help you h-have a talent for D-D-Defense and some do n-not…"

Harry tried to catch Professor Quirrell's eye, but the professor went on looking determinedly away from him. Harry sighed. He was _trying_ , but he hadn't found any way of identifying the sickness that Alanna carried with her.

He was sure that it was only visible to Parselmouths, though. He'd asked Hermione to look for the snake in Professor Quirrell's familiar, since Ravenclaws shared the Defense class with Hufflepuff, and she couldn't see anything. But she was taking enthusiastically to the books in the library Harry was looking through for clues, so that was something.

Golden nudged him. Harry stroked his neck and paid more attention to the lesson. If Golden thought it was important, then it was. He'd found out how smart Golden was at the Dursleys', when he always knew before Harry did when Dudley was trying to ambush him.

"Y-you will f-find that y-you can st-start to c-cast a d-defensive s-spell and your f-familiar w-will r-react—"

Harry listened intently, and watched as Alanna sat up on her haunches next to Professor Quirrell, like she wanted to help. But really, she was suffering so much, with her ears twitching and her coat itching whenever the silver snake shifted position, that Harry didn't see how she could.

"Mr. Potter!"

Harry looked up. Professor Quirrell was staring at him, his eyes narrowed like Uncle Vernon's.

"It's t-time to find out if the B-Boy-Who-L-Lived has a f-familiar who's g-good a-at Defense," said Professor Quirrell, and he was smiling in a way that was _definitely_ Uncle Vernon's. "T-take up your st-stance o-opposite me and l-lift your w-wand, but d-do n-not use i-it. Will your f-familiar to p-protect you i-instead."

Harry just nodded. It seemed simple to him, and something he and Golden had already done a lot of, but maybe this would lead to a way to get Professor Quirrell to listen to him. He walked into the center of the classroom and lifted his wand. Golden coiled at his feet, but lifted his head high enough to rest his nose against Harry's hip.

"Will your familiar to protect you," said Professor Quirrell, and Harry noticed that his stutter had disappeared again. He aimed his wand. Next to him, Alanna tensed and moved her ears forwards. The silver snake was in the left one, Harry saw. "Now. _Frango_!"

The spell slammed towards him. Harry saw a bright blue blur in the air.

But he already knew what to do. The minute Golden lifted his head, the runes on his back flared into life.

Those runes had appeared for the first time when Dudley had knocked him down the stairs and Harry had almost smashed into the wall at the bottom. Golden had been right there, and his back glowed, and then there was a rune on his scales and Harry was bouncing softly as though someone had turned the wall into a cushion.

He didn't think that would work this time. But on the other hand, he didn't think it needed to.

One of Golden's larger runes lit up, and a lightning bolt darted away from his back and met the blue spell. There was a huge explosion, and Harry felt the walls shake. He heard other kids cry out, and he frowned. He hadn't meant to scare them. He reached out and stroked the back of Golden's neck, to let him know that they didn't need to do that again. Golden arched his head in response.

When the light cleared, Harry was staring straight at Professor Quirrell. Alanna was slumped over on her side, but just when Harry started getting really worried, she leaped back up. She was shaking, and the silver snake dangled around her neck like a dead worm.

"Cl-class d-dismissed!"

Most of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs just cheered and ran right out the door, but Hermione and Neville waited for him. And Hermione's face was sour, and Regina was running up and down her shoulders and chattering.

"That was an illegal spell," Hermione whispered. "Harry, that would have _killed_ you if it landed on you!"

Harry shot a look over his shoulder as he took her out in the corridor. Professor Quirrell was staring after them with his face screwed up.

 _His familiar's even sicker than I thought._


	9. Silver Shadow Snake, Part Three

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Severus kept one hand on Shadowstriker. He had ever since he walked up the stairs into Albus's office, and not because he thought his viper would lunge and try to devour Albus's phoenix. It wasn't Fawkes he had to worry about hitting.

"Then you intend to do nothing?"

Albus sighed a little and popped a lemon drop into his mouth, then tried to hand one to Fawkes. The phoenix, as Severus had seen him do every time he was present when this little ritual happened, refused it with a croon. "You've said yourself that you can't see this sickness in Alanna that young Harry told you about. And there's no guarantee that it's anything to do with Voldemort."

Severus flinched, hated it, and went on stroking Shadowstriker. "You don't have the assurance that it isn't, either."

"Neither do I have the assurance that the way the oaks grow along the edge of the Forbidden Forest doesn't have something to do with poor Tom. Really, my dear boy, you ought to know that you can't prove a negative."

Severus stood up. "That's true, Albus. Well, if you'll excuse me, then I'll go and do some research in the library."

"On the word of a child?"

"On the word of a child who's also a Parselmouth, and has a golden familiar." Severus paused as he walked towards the door, suddenly struck by a thought. But it wasn't one he could voice to Albus, so he ended up nodding, saying, "Good night," and riding down the stairs while his mind rioted.

Could it be that Albus wanted to disregard Potter's word not because he was a Parselmouth or a child—the first theories Severus had come up with—but because he was the only other person in living memory to show up with a golden familiar? Out of _jealousy_?

It wasn't a good hypothesis, but Severus had long since discarded the thought that Albus Dumbledore was purely a good man. He went to the library in a thoughtful mood, and took out all the books on Dark Arts in the Restricted Section in a thoughtful mood, and would have gone on thinking about it if he hadn't got discouraged by finding nothing at all about magic like the Dark Mark in the books.

The Dark Lord had always been too clever for his own good.

* * *

"D'you think the stories are true and he can really control snakes because he's a Parselmouth?"

Ron braced himself. He'd been hearing the rumors swirling around Gryffindor Tower all yesterday, and he'd ignored them because no one had actually come up to him and said anything. But now someone was saying something right next to him.

It took a lot more courage to stand up to his Housemates in defense of his friends than he'd ever thought he'd need when he was Sorted into Gryffindor.

Arctos put his paw on Ron's knee and whuffled at him encouragingly. Ron reached out, stroked his ears back, nodded, and stood up.

"At least get the stories right, McLaggen," he said as casually as he could, while Arctos leaned against his leg and Fred and George looked up from a game they were playing with Exploding Snap cards and no rules. "They say that a Parselmouth can control _any_ reptilian familiar, not just snakes."

McLaggen paled. At his feet, his copper lizard, Antonio, flickered out his tongue and then scrambled into McLaggen's lap. McLaggen stroked his nose and seemed to get some confidence back. "You don't actually know that. No one does, because there are no Parselmouths anymore."

"There is now. Why don't you go and ask Harry? I'm sure that he could tell you. And he'd be _happy_ to tell you. He isn't stuck-up, like some people I could name."

McLaggen glared at him. Ron could feel sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. McLaggen was only one year above him, but he was pretty tall and hefty. And just because Fred and George could intervene didn't mean they _would_. They'd told Ron on his first night that they thought he could fight his own battles.

"Go talk to a _Hufflepuff?_ We don't all have your lack of loyalty to our Houses, Weasley."

"I'm plenty loyal to Gryffindor!"

McLaggen sneered and made his lizard scurry up to his shoulder as he leaned forwards. Arctos fixed his eyes on Antonio and growled. Antonio only flicked his tongue out again. "Then prove it. Talk to the people in Gryffindor and make friends here! Stop spending time in the library with that Ravenclaw girl and those two Hufflepuffs and that _Slytherin_."

Ron answered before he even thought about it. "They're my friends."

"How can a Slytherin be anyone's friend?"

"Because he just—is," Ron muttered. He knew he didn't sound convincing, and Arctos leaned harder against him as if he thought he could give Ron's words more weight. Ron shook his head and decided to say, "Look, come along with me and meet Harry if you want, McLaggen. Then you can see the truth."

"Which is?"

"That it doesn't matter if he's a Parselmouth and could control your lizard," Ron said, folding his arms. "Because he's not the kind of person who ever _would_. It just wouldn't occur to him," he added, when he saw the doubtful way McLaggen stared at him. "He doesn't want his power. Or he only wants to use it to change things for the better."

"People with golden familiars are always powerful and out for themselves."

"You think Professor Dumbledore is, too?" Ron asked. It was the first time he'd ever heard someone say that kind of thing about Dumbledore. Most people respected him even if they didn't like him much, and people like Mum and Dad almost worshiped him.

McLaggen looked uncomfortable. "I didn't say that."

"Is that just because Professor Dumbledore used to be a Gryffindor?" Ron snorted a little when McLaggen went red. "Come on, just meet Harry. You'll forget he's a Hufflepuff in a little while. He's just Harry."

"Maybe I will and maybe I won't."

"Unless you're scared to," Ron said. He knew he had it when McLaggen grabbed hold of his lizard and acted like he would surge out of the chair. "Scared that Harry's going to control your familiar or something. I told you he wouldn't, but you don't believe me, do you? Or you're too scared to believe me."

"I'm not _scared_ , Weasley! Take that back!"

"Why should I, when you're _acting_ scared?"

McLaggen glared at him for a little. Ron would have found the glare more impressive a fortnight ago, before he was Sorted into Gryffindor and he learned that he had his own courage, and that it didn't matter so much that he had a bronze familiar in a family full of people with bronzes. Harry saw him for who he really was. It wasn't the twins or Bill or Charlie that he wanted to be friends with.

"Fine," McLaggen growled. "It looks like your little friend spends all his time with that Ravenclaw girl in the library. Tell him that I'll meet him there tomorrow." And he stalked off up the stairs with Antonio balanced on his shoulder and flicking his tongue at Ron and Arctos from under McLaggen's hair.

Ron blinked, then grinned and sat back down. Most people were ignoring him again now that McLaggen was gone, but as he watched, Fabian, Fred's bronze cockatoo familiar, flew over to the back of his chair. Ron watched him warily. Sometimes he could pet Gideon, George's familiar, but Fabian liked to chew on Ron's ears and crap in his hair.

Fabian just reached down and gently preened Ron's hair, though. Then he flew back to Fred, and the twins nodded to Ron and kept playing their game.

It occurred to Ron that he should maybe have asked Harry if _he_ wanted to meet McLaggen, but he shrugged a minute later and decided it didn't matter. Harry was just Harry, and he accepted everybody. He'd probably forgive Ron if he showed up with Voldemort in tow, let alone another Gryffindor.

* * *

"What are you looking up?"

Harry smiled at McLaggen and pushed the book towards him. The boy had been loud and rude for the first few minutes when he and Draco and Hermione and Ron were all together in the library, and most of his animosity seemed to be directed at Draco. But in the end, he had got interested in the ways that Hermione and Harry were discussing the sickness of Quirrell's familiar.

"The diseases that might cause a silver snake to appear inside a bronze rabbit."

McLaggen leaned back and scoffed a little, but then he glanced at Golden, and his tone got a lot more respectful. "Familiars don't get sick like that. There's no such thing."

"Well, _something_ is making a silver snake appear inside Alanna," Harry told him. McLaggen could scoff all he wanted, but Harry knew what he'd seen.

"And Professor Quirrell used a spell on Harry today that could have been lethal." Hermione was practically bouncing in her seat, and Regina bobbed her head and chattered a little. She hadn't looked away from McLaggen's familiar since he sat down, but Harry trusted Hermione to stop her from doing something stupid. "It could have _killed_ him! But Golden's defensive runes were good."

"Why are your runes so good? _That_ good?" Draco said suddenly, leaning forwards.

Harry looked at him, and only saw friendly interest there. It made him hope that Draco wasn't going to have a bad reaction or think Harry had had an especially hard life just because he had a golden familiar. So he answered. "They're the runes from where Golden protected me against my Muggle relatives."

McLaggen had been tilting back in his chair. Suddenly he let the legs fall forwards and nearly hit his knees on the table. " _What_?"

"What," Draco said, in a flatter tone, at the same time. Kali reared up on his shoulder and hissed.

Even Ron looked upset, although he hadn't said much since they'd come into the library, just reading books and taking notes. He petted Arctos's head and said, "I think we all want to know more about that, Harry."

"Well, I mean, they're Muggles," Harry said slowly. He wondered what he should say. They seemed a lot more upset than he thought they should be, but on the other hand, he didn't want to get them _more_ upset. "So they couldn't see Golden, and they were always saying I was lying when I talked about him. I didn't know anything about the wizarding world and how unusual it was to have a golden snake until Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley. Golden protected me when they pushed me down stairs or tried to grab my arm, and he kept them from holding food away from me as much as they wanted."

McLaggen suddenly stood up and glanced at Ron. "You know what you're talking about, Weasley. And it's _outrageous_." Then he stomped out of the library. Harry shook his head after him. If McLaggen wasn't interested in helping them look for the source of Alanna's sickness, he should have just said so in the first place.

Draco's face was pale as he reached out and laid a hand on Harry's sleeve. "Harry, promise me something."

"What?" Harry patted Draco's shoulder. He looked so upset that Harry was ready to promise him anything, except maybe to obey his mother, who just didn't understand some of the things Harry wanted.

"You won't go back to the Muggles. Not now."

Harry frowned. "But where am I going to live if I don't go back to them? They're my only family."

"I think McLaggen's going to take care of that," said Ron, smiling a little.

" _Now_ what do you mean?" Harry said, and rolled his eyes when Ron's smile only got bigger. "Anyway. It's not important that we talk about the Dursleys or Golden's runes. Hermione's right that Professor Quirrell shot a spell at me, but I'm sure that's connected to the way that his familiar looks. It's like his actions aren't really his."

Draco sat up suddenly. "What if—what if someone else's familiar is controlling his?"

Harry snapped his fingers. "You can do that?"

"Well—not really. I've never heard of it. But what you said about his actions not being his own…"

"Let me go look for books on possession," said Hermione, and stood up so suddenly that Regina nearly fell from her shoulder, and ran off into the bookshelves. Golden stuck his head out from under the table to look after her, then returned to his nap.

"Thanks, Draco," Harry said, and grinned at him. "We've got something to look for, now."

"Lots of things," said Draco darkly, and went back into the shelves. Harry couldn't help noticing that he had different books from Hermione when he came back, ones on wizarding law and the treatment of children.

But for right now, he wasn't going to say anything, only scowling and sometimes muttering to Ron, who muttered back. So Harry let it go, and discussed possession with Hermione.

The Dursleys were far away and a distant problem. Right now, they had to help Professor Quirrell.


	10. Silver Shadow Snake, Part Four

Thank you again for all the reviews!

 _Part Four_

"I need to talk to you, Potter."

Harry blinked. He recognized Cormac McLaggen, but he couldn't think why he would need to talk to him, and right in the middle of breakfast, too. But he leaned back at the Hufflepuff table and shrugged. "All right."

"Not _here_." McLaggen darted his eyes around. He got a little white when Cedric Diggory stood up and began making his way over. Cedric was only a third-year, but he was still taller than McLaggen, and he had a leopard familiar. "It's about—it's about something private. Your family."

"Do you know Harry's family?" Cedric was looming behind Harry and scowled. Nebulous, his familiar, was bronze, but he had a threatening growl, and he put his paws on the table and reared up until he was almost McLaggen's height. "Wouldn't have thought it of you. Don't they all live in the Muggle world, Harry?"

"Yes." Harry frowned a little. Cedric was acting like McLaggen had come over here to bully him, which wasn't the case. And if it was a private matter, then they should talk about it in private, although Harry couldn't imagine the circumstances where McLaggen would have come to know either Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon. He stood up. "It's all right, Cedric. I'm going to go talk to him."

"Alone?"

"Of course not. I have Golden."

Cedric opened his mouth, and Harry honestly thought he was about to say that wasn't enough. Then he nodded and said, still with a scowl, "Well, let me know if you need anything, Harry." He went back to sitting down.

Harry could see his other friends watching worriedly from their House tables, but he waved at them and went away with McLaggen. Golden was slithering beside him, glowing brighter than ever as a few of the runes on his back lit up. McLaggen didn't seem stupid to Harry, and he wouldn't attack.

When they were out in the corridor, McLaggen pulled Harry around a corner and cast a charm that Harry didn't recognize. He watched in interest as it lit the air around them blue. "What's that do?"

"It tells me if there's anyone following us or anything like that," McLaggen said, and tucked his wand away. He was staring intently into Harry's eyes. "You know I have lots of connections in the Ministry?"

"No."

McLaggen looked thrown by that. "Oh. Well, I do." He petted his lizard for a second when Antonio poked his head out from under his hair. "And my family has lots of important people in it." He started sounding more confident again. Harry petted Golden's head and waited. So far, this didn't sound like it had much to do with him.

"They were all outraged when they heard about what happened to you."

"What _happened_ to me?"

McLaggen coughed and nodded grimly to him. "You don't have to pretend in front of me, Pot—Harry. I know how awful it must have been living with those Muggles. You said yourself that they pushed you down the stairs, and manhandled you, and tried to take food away from you."

"They _tried_. Golden stopped them, mostly."

"No one's familiar has that many defensive runes on them unless it wasn't 'mostly,'" McLaggen said flatly. He looked upset. "Anyway, I wanted you to know that an investigation's started. It has to be hush-hush for now, but it'll get out in the open soon enough. They just need to collect enough evidence on the Muggles to keep you from having to go back to them."

Harry hesitated, his hand resting on Golden's scales, and over a rune. McLaggen was all concerned about him, but it seemed to Harry that there was someone else who needed help more. "What about Professor Quirrell?"

"What about him?" Again McLaggen looked thrown. Harry really hoped it wasn't because he had a golden familiar and he cared about Professor Quirrell. That was just sad, the way everyone he met expected people with golden familiars to care only about themselves.

"I want them to start an investigation to help him."

McLaggen stared. Then he shook his head. "Why would my relatives want to help _him_? He's an adult, he can help himself. Besides, he only has a bronze rabbit."

 _So at least part of it is because of where he stands on the hierarchy._ Harry folded his arms and glared. "Then I'll refuse to let them help me."

"You _can't_. What are you going to do?"

"Wait until someone comes to talk to me, and then say I was joking and you misunderstood. Or just that you misunderstood," Harry added, seeing the wide-eyed, horrified way McLaggen was looking at him. When he thought about that, Harry knew why. It would be horrible to joke about people hurting someone.

"You—they would take your word, because you have a golden familiar."

"Right." Draco had insisted that Harry read a lot of books about the history of golden familiars that were mostly depressing, but Harry remembered that part. Unless he willingly took Veritaserum or he contradicted Pensieve memories or something like that, they would _have_ to believe him when he spoke. They'd have to take his word and not doubt it, or only say they did in private. And that was really bad manners.

McLaggen just stood there with his hand on his lizard. Then he burst out, "Don't you _want_ to be helped? Uncle Tiberius said—"

"I want all people to be helped." Harry stood up more strongly and looked McLaggen right in the eye. "For whatever reason, none of the adults here are helping Professor Quirrell. Maybe because they can't see the snake or they hate him, I don't know. But _I_ know. I want to create a world where people with all colors of familiar are respected, McLaggen. I can't take special privileges for myself if I want to do that."

"But." McLaggen sat down on the floor suddenly. "That means you might go back to those filthy Muggles and suffer some more!"

"But you only care so much because I have Golden. Don't you?"

"Well." McLaggen looked at Golden, then at him. "Yes."

"So that's not the best reason for caring," Harry said, and sighed a little when McLaggen only shook his head as if he didn't understand. "I want to help Professor Quirrell. You said that your relatives in the Ministry are powerful. They should be able to get an investigation started, shouldn't they? They wouldn't want a dangerous or sick professor around their children." _Or a possessed one._ But Harry didn't know if he was yet, which meant he would keep his mouth shut until he knew.

"They're going to be upset when I come to them twice in a row."

"Say whatever you want. I trust you to know what you should say better than me."

McLaggen looked a little cheered-up at that, but not happy. He stood up and studied Harry with his head on one side. "I have no idea why you're so different from the way I was told people with a golden familiar would be."

"Growing up in the Muggle world. The hierarchy doesn't matter to me."

"What does?"

"People."

McLaggen looked baffled, but he nodded and walked off, only raising a hand once when it seemed as though Antonio would overbalance and topple off his shoulder. Harry went back into the Great Hall and just had time to eat a little more at the Hufflepuff table before it vanished and they had to go to classes.

"I'm fine, Cedric," he told Cedric patiently when he tried to examine him.

Cedric only nodded and turned to talk to a few of the older Hufflepuffs. Harry shook his head and left with Neville in tow.

They caught up with Hermione outside the Great Hall, since they had Potions with the Ravenclaws this morning. "Harry!" Hermione was practically bouncing next to him. "What did McLaggen want?"

"He wanted to rescue me." Hermione looked puzzled, and Harry just shook his head and said, "We'll talk about it later, okay?"

Hermione nodded slowly, and then looked over her shoulder. "I thought the fourth-year Hufflepuffs had different classes right now."

Harry looked himself. The two boys were some of the ones Cedric had been talking about. He shrugged. "They can do whatever they want. Come on." He started walking briskly, but of course Golden flowed faster than he did. That always ended up happening. Harry smiled fondly at Golden, and received a blunt head pushing into his hip.

Hermione kept looking at the boys, who followed them down to the dungeons, up to Snape's classroom door, and then turned around once they entered. Harry shrugged again when she tried to say something about it. Honestly, he thought Cedric might have chosen the boys to guard him or something.

But it was a silly thing to suspect. His friends and people like McLaggen had good reason to worry about Harry. Older students in Hufflepuff didn't, and Harry said hello and good-bye to Cedric and that was about it. Most likely, the boys had followed them down to watch Golden. People did that all the time, to see what a golden familiar looked like and how he moved.

 _If people could just see that I was ordinary, it would be so much better for them and for me,_ Harry thought wistfully as he took his seat and prepared to set up his cauldron.

* * *

Hermione pushed her hair out of her mouth and waved to Terry Boot, who she'd been studying for their Transfiguration exam with. "I'll be back in a minute, Terry. I see someone I want to talk to."

"All right," Terry muttered, with a shrug that made his bronze butterfly familiar have to fly up and then resettle on his hand. Hermione smiled. The other Ravenclaws had already come to terms with her tendency to have friends in other Houses, even though most of them were pretty standoffish and only made friends in Ravenclaw. It helped a lot that Hermione had a silver familiar, she thought.

"Which is silly," she told Regina, who chattered in agreement. "Just because they think that familiars show magical strength…I would be impressive even if you were tin! And Harry is just a natural leader anyway."

Regina nipped her, probably for the tin comment. Hermione turned a sharp corner around a bookshelf and surprised McLaggen just as he was taking down a book on defensive Charms.

"What do you want, Granger?" he asked gruffly.

"I know that you said something important to Harry the other day," she said. "And then I saw you walking away from him, looking dumbfounded." That wasn't unusual around Harry, but Hermione liked to know _why_. "What happened?"

McLaggen's eyes started to gleam as he looked at her. Most of the time, Hermione would be wary. It usually meant that the student whose eyes were gleaming wanted her help with homework. But in this case, it was probably something else. So she set her feet and looked back at him undaunted.

"You're smart," McLaggen said. "And you have a silver familiar, and you're a Ravenclaw, not someone in Harry's own House they might think was being influenced by him. Not in my House either, come to think of it. Maybe you could convince my relatives."

"Of what?"

"Come on, Granger, and I'll tell you."

Hermione followed McLaggen, a little worried that she might be betraying Harry, but not really. If it was anything terrible, then she would just walk away and not engage with him.

She was smart, and Regina would eat his lizard if he tried anything.


	11. Silver Shadow Snake, Part Five

Thank you again for all the reviews!

 _Part Five_

Severus grimaced as he laid down the book in front of him and shook his head. Of course the "secret" of what was happening to Quirrell would turn out to be something as simple as possession. Severus ought to have seen that possibility long before he overheard the children in the library.

But while he was almost certain that Quirrell was possessed by the Dark Lord, as yet he had no direct proof. The word of a Parselmouth was not enough for open court. More than that, it was not enough for _Dumbledore._

Then Severus paused, and Shadowstriker wriggled around his neck in agitation, as though scolding him for being so stupid.

The word of a Parselmouth, no. But the word of someone with a golden familiar?

And _two_ people with golden familiars?

Severus stood with a swirl of his cloak and left his quarters. In truth, he thought, he had merely being putting off this confrontation because he did not wish to speak with Albus lately. If he hadn't been hiding behind his own version of denial, he would have anticipated the simplest solution some time ago.

Then again, he wasn't used to dealing with the fact that two people who had golden familiars existed in the wizarding world. He didn't think anyone was, yet.

He had to growl several Muggle sweets at the gargoyle before it gave in and let him enter, but that didn't dent his mood as much as it would have on most afternoons. He had the solution to the Quirrell problem, and it didn't involve the waiting and watching from the shadows that was necessary to preserve his cover in case the Dark Lord returned soon. He would just let his employer take care of it.

Albus was smiling when Severus stepped into the office, and Fawkes was perched on his shoulder, grooming his hair. "Lemon drop?"

Severus accepted it, because it would put Albus in a better mood, but Shadowstriker stole it on its way to his mouth. That was by prior arrangement, of course. Severus leaned forwards and said, "I have discovered what plagues Quirinus."

"Have you?"

Albus's voice had chilled, his eyes darkened. Severus noticed the signs and paused, but his own drive to get this situation solved and out of his lap was too strong to be set back by those signs. "Yes. He is possessed. I have never heard of a case like it, but it is not beyond the point of believability that the possessing spirit's familiar could manifest in the familiar of the victim. I found a book that argues for the convincing theoretical possibility, in fact."

"And you think the possessing spirit is…?"

"The Dark Lord."

Albus sighed and shook his head. "Severus. We cannot go around basing conclusions on so little evidence. Yes, it is _possible_ that poor Quirinus is possessed. But no one has actually seen this supposed familiar-inside-a-familiar, have they?"

"Harry Potter."

"No one else can see—"

"No. But there is also no reason to doubt the word of someone who stands on the golden rung of the hierarchy."

Albus paused again. In the silence, Fawkes flew from his shoulder back to the perch he usually occupied and sat there, looking alertly back and forth between the two men.

Severus didn't let himself react. He kept his eyes on Albus's, sure that his thoughts were secure behind his Occlumency walls, and that Albus was merely trying the time-honored tactic of a disappointed stare on him, instead of actually reading his mind.

"Severus," Albus whispered. "My boy. I know how hard this has all been for you—"

"How hard all _what_ has been for me?"

Severus's voice was louder than it should have been in his surprise, but he had no idea what Albus was referring to, and that prevented him from playing along with the game to see what would happen, the way he otherwise would. He watched as Albus tragically shook his head and sighed a little.

"Seeing Harry Potter come to Hogwarts with a golden familiar. His resemblance to his father is striking, but of course James only had a silver. For you to see the reincarnation of your worst enemy, with all his father's characteristics, walking around the school and basking in adulation and power…"

"If he was truly a reincarnation of his father, then he would have been Sorted into Gryffindor. And my worst enemy is the Dark Lord."

"Still, to see young Harry with this power. What must it do to your heart?"

"Not the power itself." Severus saw no need to mention that he had once been afraid Potter would use his Parseltongue to control Shadowstriker, the way that the Dark Lord had done. He could see now that that wasn't in Potter's character. "He doesn't care about the adulation. He wants to save people. In fact, he was the one who first told me that he saw the Dark Lord's snake inside Quirinus's familiar, because he wants to _help_ the bastard."

"We have no idea if it _is_ Tom's snake, Severus."

"That is a lot more like Lily than it ever was James."

"You are still asking me to act on suspicions."

"Spoken by someone with a golden familiar." Severus spent a moment stroking his finger down Shadowstriker's back. He hadn't truly thought Albus would be so reluctant to do something. Of course, he had considered the possibility, but it meant that something else was true, something that would make his life harder.

"And still a child." Albus shook his head again, and Fawkes trilled something. Severus had never been able to understand the bloody bird, though. "I'm afraid that I must ask you to wait, Severus. Wait, and consider whether we can afford to go chasing every rumor brought to our attention by children."

Severus clamped down his self-control, and Shadowstriker did not do more than utter a single sharp hiss. Severus stood up and inclined his head. "As you say, Headmaster. Then I will go away, and hope that things work out better than they seem inclined to right now."

Albus's eyes began twinkling again. "You may rest assured that I will not let Quirinus hurt any of the children, Severus."

 _Oh, you would, if you thought it would serve the greater good,_ Severus thought bitterly as he turned and went down the stairs. And he was not sure that confirmation of what he had suspected made up for his failure to move Albus.

Still, there was that confirmation.

Albus _was_ jealous of Potter's power. Severus would have staked what little was left of his blackened and tattered soul on it.

* * *

Harry looked calmly at Hermione and McLaggen as they stood together in front of him. "No."

"B-but, _Harry_! It's the right thing to do!" Hermione looked like she wanted to shake him. Regina had her back arched and her teeth chattering together. Golden stuck his head out from beneath the table in response, but Harry knew that he wouldn't actually eat anybody. He just wanted to see if Harry needed his protection.

"Listen to Granger, mate. She's your friend." McLaggen folded his arms and nodded as though that meant his transparent tactics to manipulate Harry had to be effective. His familiar was hidden, the way he always seemed to be around Golden.

"No," Harry repeated. Hermione had quoted wizarding law at him, including laws about how any wizard was entitled to do anything they thought necessary to protect a wounded or desperate person with a golden familiar. McLaggen seemed to think that having Hermione quote the law would persuade Harry the way McLaggen going to his family hadn't.

"No, I'm not your friend?"

"Of course you're my friend, Hermione. I just meant that I'm not going to listen," Harry said firmly. "Not unless someone does something to help Quirrell at the same time they help me."

Hermione looked a little cheered-up, but she still exchanged hopeless glances with McLaggen. McLaggen sighed and scratched his armpit. "You're going to embarrass my family if they have to end the investigation into the Muggles."

"I don't want them to do that. Just investigate Quirrell at the same time. I'm almost sure he's possessed. See what they can do with cases of possession. I read about the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry. They could have something there that would help him, right?"

McLaggen blinked. Then he said, "That's a good idea, Potter. I'll go and ask them about it." And he almost ran down the aisles between the library shelves.

Hermione sat down across from him. "You're not angry with me?"

"No. Just a little puzzled. Why did you think that would work?"

"McLaggen made it sound convincing."

Harry laughed. "One thing you should always remember, Hermione, is that I always want to help people."

Hermione nodded, but she kept giving him little darting glances from under her eyelids for the rest of the afternoon. Harry ignored it. She was probably embarrassed and needed some time to recover.

But when they were walking out of the library together, Professor Snape stopped them and said, "I need to talk to you, Potter," and Harry felt his heart lift. Professor Snape looked determined and upset, and that meant—

 _Maybe he finally believed me about Professor Quirrell?_

 _Maybe someone is finally going to help him!_

"Of course, Professor," Harry said politely, and followed Snape, with a wave of his hand to Hermione. He didn't know why she looked so nervous. He would be fine as long as Golden was with him, and Professor Snape was inclined to listen to reason. It was a _great_ day.


	12. Silver Shadow Snake, Part Six

Thank you again for the reviews!

 _Part Six_

"Bar the door."

Harry frowned a little at Professor Snape's back. It seemed to him that the _Professor_ should bar the door. Harry had read about a few Locking Charms, but he wasn't any good at them yet, when he'd been researching possession and law and people with golden familiars and a few other things.

Then he thought of one way he could manage it. He nodded at Golden, who slid softly towards the door and lay down along the crack underneath it. Now no one would be able to look underneath it or probably hear them, and Golden could push back with enormous strength if someone tried to open it.

"There," Harry told Professor Snape.

The professor turned around, wand already in one hand. Then he paused and his eyebrows flickered. "You found a way."

"I do most of the time, sir." Harry looked around and saw the student chair in front of the desk. He went to sit down in it. "Did you want to talk with me about Professor Quirrell, sir?"

"In part." Snape put his wand away with a strange expression on his face. Then he sat down in his own chair. "I have decided that you were right and that sickness with his familiar _is_ something worth worrying about. Possession, in fact." He shifted his hand around the way mice shifted when Golden stalked them. "I brought that fact to the attention of the Headmaster."

Harry leaned forwards. "What did he say, sir?"

"That he does not intend to move at the moment."

Harry scowled. "Is that because he thinks like my friends? That it's somehow an inconvenience to help other people than me?"

"No-no, I don't think that is it." Professor Snape hesitated, and Harry found himself wishing the man would simply spit it out. But he had no idea what was coming next, so he had to wait. Professor Snape petted his familiar and looked all around the room before he nodded.

"I believe," said Professor Snape at last, "that the Headmaster would rather disregard what you say about Professor Quirrell because you do not fit in with his plans for you."

Harry blinked some more. The one thing he knew for certain was that _no one_ had had plans for him, because no one thought he was going to show up with a golden familiar. "What do you mean, sir?"

"I am not entirely certain." At least Professor Snape looked as frustrated with that fact as Harry felt. "I do know that he seems to think that you will take certain actions he can predict, and Professor Quirrell, the same." The professor stroked his familiar again. "If I had to venture a guess, then I think he means to set up Quirrell an obstacle for you to overcome."

"But he's _sick_! Or possessed. That means we have to help him."

"You would be amazed at the amount of people Albus Dumbledore manages to get out of helping, even when it seems as if that is one of the main reasons his office exists."

There was a lot of bitterness in Professor Snape's remark. Harry hesitated and looked back at Golden, but Golden just looked at him. So Harry had to face Professor Snape and ask the question by himself. "Were you one of them, sir?"

Professor Snape stiffened. "We are not here to discuss me, Mr. Potter. We are here to discuss what we are going to _do_."

"We'll have to work against the Headmaster, then." Harry felt a little despondent about that. He would have liked to connect with the only other person who had a golden familiar, and ask him questions like how he kept people from fawning over him. "Hermione has been looking up ways to expel a possessing spirit. Do you think we could do that?"

There was a long moment when Professor Snape seemed about to choke on his own spit. Dudley did that sometimes, but Harry didn't know why _Professor Snape_ seemed so surprised.

"Expelling a possessing spirit is Dark magic."

"But is there any other way to help Professor Quirrell?"

"We could report him to the Ministry. They have the right to use that particular—anti-possession magic without being arrested for it."

Harry wanted to roll his eyes. But he knew Professor Snape was trying to be helpful, so he didn't do it. "Do you think they would? Or would they imprison him for the crimes of the spirit possessing him?"

For a second, he thought the silver snake on Professor Snape's shoulder was actually going to slither down and attack him, and he braced himself for that. But instead, Professor Snape held the snake back with a motion of his hand, and said only, "You _have_ been studying."

"Yes. I know they do that to other possessed people, sometimes. They only seem to help the famous ones or the ones that have a lot of money. And I don't think Professor Quirrell fits into those categories."

"No. He does not." For some reason, Professor Snape was studying him very closely now. "You don't mind using Dark magic?" His eyes went to the scar on Harry's forehead, and he frowned.

"Well, Dark magic seemed pretty broad to me," Harry said honestly. "Yes, there's one kind of it that killed my parents and Voldemort used on me, too. But that was a curse. Should I never cast any curse because of that?"

"No." Professor Snape's voice was low. "It just isn't what I expected to hear from you."

Harry shook his head, a little exasperated. Professor Dumbledore seemed to have given up helping Professor Quirrell because Harry wasn't what he expected him to be, but Harry didn't think that meant it should happen to anyone else. "How could anyone have all these _expectations_ of me, sir? Fine, they didn't know that I would have a golden familiar, but I've been in the wizarding world for _weeks_ now. That means they should have time to get used to me! Will you help us get rid of that possessing spirit or not?"

* * *

 _He thinks people can get used to him within a fortnight?_

Severus wished he could have time alone with a vat of Firewhisky. It would have to be a vat. But he couldn't, which meant he needed to keep on going and try to address Potter's own expectations.

"They thought you would be a Gryffindor," he said. "Because your parents were. They thought you would understand and be conscious of your own importance. Because they thought you would be raised by a wizarding family. They thought you would be a prodigy with magic, compassionate, kind to them all, wonderfully accepting. And some of that might be true, but most of it comes from their belief in you as a hero."

Potter calmed down with remarkable quickness, although he glanced at his Golden several times. Then he nodded and said, "I understand, sir. When can we set up the ritual to expel the possessing spirit from Professor Quirrell?"

Severus wanted to close his eyes. He resisted the temptation. "It isn't that simple."

"Why not, sir?"

"We can't conduct the ritual without some ingredients that will take time to purchase or find. And we can't do it without some feeling for how strong the possessing spirit is. The ritual varies in strength depending on that."

"Oh," said Potter, and pondered a little more. "What if we assume the spirit is as strong as possible? Is it going to be a problem if we have the ritual be too strong instead of just the right strength?"

"Perhaps not. But you should tell me why we should assume this is a powerful spirit."

"Well, the history I've read says that Voldemort had a silver snake as a familiar, sir. And there's a silver snake floating around in Professor Quirrell's rabbit. I think that means it's Voldemort's spirit. Which would be as strong as possible, right?"

Severus had to swallow several times to clear the dryness out of his mouth. "Where—you are not afraid?"

"I don't want things to go wrong," said Potter, staring at him with earnest eyes. "So I'm afraid they might. But we _can't_ leave him there and suffering from being possessed by Voldemort, sir. I think the Headmaster probably does have a plan for that. But his plan involves waiting. I don't want to wait."

 _He is a rule-breaker,_ Severus realized with surprise. _I never saw it before._

And neither would most of the other people observing Potter, he knew. They would see a polite boy—a Hufflepuff—who seemed to be concerned about everyone in sight, and they would assume that he was either weak and mild, or too frightened to stir a foot out of line. They would blame his Gryffindor and Slytherin friends if he was caught in a prank or otherwise out of bounds.

And from the way Potter stared him directly in the eye, he had all sorts of excuses ready. He had certainly hidden his readiness to use the Dark Arts well until Severus had asked a question that drew that trait out.

"We must wait," Severus said, and made his voice sharp, "until we can gather the ingredients."

"I know, sir. But after that?"

"We must wait until we know more about the possessing spirit."

"I think I could send Golden to spy on Professor Quirrell. Or maybe Hermione could do it. Regina is small enough that Professor Quirrell might not see her. If he talks to himself about Voldemort when he's alone, then we would have proof, right?"

Severus wanted to put a hand over his eyes. He wanted to laugh. But neither would actually suffice to discourage Potter, so he said only, "We need to think about this and approach it slowly. Otherwise, we might alert Professor Quirrell. He might simply flee, and then we wouldn't be able to—free him at all."

Potter paused, then nodded. "All right, sir. But what do you think we ought to do in the meantime?"

"I will need some money for the more expensive ingredients," Severus murmured. He grimaced. He knew how to get that money, but it involved venturing into the Forbidden Forest and harvesting plants that were both unpleasant and dangerous to deal with. "And to gather some of the rest. The gathering is the part that will take the least time. Buying the ingredients, on the other hand, earning the money and—"

"I have a lot of money in my vault, sir."

"I am _not_ going to take any money from you, Potter. No, _listen_ to me. Your parents left that money so you could pay for school. I know that in some respects it is yours to do with as you wish, but think about how you would feel if you couldn't attend school at Hogwarts for one year, or even more, because you ran out of Galleons."

"Okay, sir, I can see what you mean. But is there anything we can do in the meantime while you're earning the money?"

"Keep an eye on Quirrell for me. Alert me at once if his behavior changes."

Potter nodded slowly. "It just seems like we should be doing more."

Severus sneered at him a little. Interacting with the boy like this let him forget easily enough how powerful Potter was, and even that he was a Parselmouth who might be able to take the allegiance of Severus's familiar away from him. He was as impatient and eager as any student, and as disregarding of the danger as any Gryffindor. He just hid it better than many of the dunderheads Severus dealt with on a daily basis. "We are _not_ doing more than this, Potter. If I find out that you have used your snake or Granger's familiar to spy on Quirrell, or otherwise done something risky and failed to keep yourself safe, I will put you in detention for the rest of the year."

Potter hesitated. Severus could almost follow his thought process. _It might be worth it._

"I can easily expose your plans to the Headmaster. Or use the detentions to make sure that you cannot participate in atta—helping Quirrell at all."

"All right, sir." Potter surrendered with a little breath. "And thank you for helping us. You didn't have to do it, and I know that you don't like Professor Quirrell much, but this really is the right thing to do. Especially if I'm supposed to be fighting Voldemort."

"For now," Severus said, holding back the headache, "concentrate on your homework and acting like a normal schoolboy. If you do something different now, you will attract his attention."

"You're right, sir. Thank you again. I know this is going to take a lot of work. Please let me know if I can help."

Potter nodded respectfully to him, collected his snake, and slipped out of the office. Severus watched him go, his frown growing more pronounced as he sat there.

It was not right that Severus himself should have to take so many risky actions to free Quirrell from what probably _was_ the possession of the Dark Lord. But it also wasn't right that a boy like Potter should have to come up with such plans, or notice the problem in the first place, or plot to solve it.

The first seeds of a still deeper doubt than he had felt so far grew in Severus's mind.

 _The Headmaster must be wrong about Potter being the one who has to defeat the Dark Lord alone. H_ _e_ must _be. I do not care if he has the power. It is…not right to place the burden on a child alone._


	13. Silver Shadow Snake, Part Seven

Thank you again for all the reviews!

 _Part Seven_

"All right. I spoke to my relatives who work in the Ministry. They said they would be able to do something for Quirrell if you could figure out what was wrong with him _for sure._ Their investigation hasn't turned up anything."

Harry smiled and curled his arm around Golden's neck. They were meeting in an alcove on the third floor that McLaggen had said was private, and both Golden and Antonio were keeping watch. "I can do that. What do I need to do for your relatives?"

"An interview. They need an interview where you tell the truth about what happened with your _Muggles_."

"I don't think I can leave the school, though. Is someone going to come here and interview me?"

McLaggen nodded, a piece of his hair falling into his eyes. "But we'll have to either keep it quiet and without the Headmaster's knowledge, or you need to invite them. Which would you rather do?"

Harry hesitated. There was one thing he actually hadn't tried, and until he had, he supposed he didn't have the right to sneak around Headmaster Dumbledore. "Let me invite them. Who's going to interview me? Someone from the _Prophet_?"

McLaggen was relaxed and grinning now. It seemed he really wanted to help Harry that much. Harry smiled again. "Not that kind of interview, Harry. With my cousin Julian who works for Children's Services. He'll bring a list of questions they use in these kinds of interviews, but he might ask other ones, too. Would that be okay?"

"Is it special treatment?"

"It has to be. Most of the time, they would only do this kind of interview with an adult present. They respect that your guardians are abusive and most of the professors in the school wouldn't go against Dumbledore. So they'll do it alone. And they're agreeing to do it in the first place—"

"Because I have a golden familiar."

"Yes."

McLaggen said it without a trace of shame. Harry sighed, but he remembered how much hard work it was going to take to change things. He could go slowly, or he could try and go fast, but he didn't think anyone would listen to him if he did that. And he could try to use only Light magic, or he could use Dark magic, too, like the ritual that would free Quirrell from Voldemort's spirit. He had to do what _worked_.

He had to let people do special things right now because he had a golden familiar. But soon things would change, and then he would be more equal and people would calm down. He just had to get there first.

He nodded to McLaggen and said, "First I'm going to talk to Dumbledore and figure out if he knows about Quirrell being possessed. It just seems like he _has_ to." He thought about mentioning that Professor Snape thought Dumbledore did, but then he decided not to. McLaggen was like most Gryffindors. He hated Professor Snape. "But if he doesn't say anything, then we'll go ahead and do what we have to do."

"Are you sure the Hat didn't want to put you in Gryffindor, Potter? You've got the rule-breaking aspect down pat."

"Hufflepuffs break rules, too. We just don't get caught."

McLaggen snorted, shook his hand, and went away, saying he was going to send an owl to his cousin about a time when he could come to Hogwarts and interview Harry. Harry took Golden's head between his hands and looked him solemnly in the eye.

"Can you go and find Fawkes? Just tell him that I'd like to speak Headmaster Dumbledore. I don't know the password for his office."

Golden flicked his tongue out to touch Harry's hand briefly, and then turned and slid up the corridor. Harry watched him go. He hoped things would work out. Headmaster Dumbledore just seemed like a really strange person if he _knew_ about Professor Quirrell being possessed but wouldn't try to help him.

* * *

"Wow, this is brilliant."

"I'm glad it meets with your approval, dear boy." Albus settled back behind his desk and watched Harry stare around in awe. And unabashed fascination. He smiled. It had been a long time since he'd been eleven, but Harry's bright eyes reminded him in the best possible way. "Now. Did you want to tell me why you sent Golden to seek out Fawkes?"

"Oh! Yeah." The boy jogged over and sat in the chair in front of the desk. His snake followed him, sliding along the floor. Albus watched him. Golden seemed fat and lazy and more prone to curling around Harry's feet and falling asleep than helping him wield powerful magic, but Fawkes had seemed like a harmless downy hatchling when Albus first entered Hogwarts, too.

Albus was not sure what he regretted more: that Golden was, well, golden, or that he was a snake. One of them might have been livable, despite the shock of seeing the boy show up with such a familiar. Both of them together were not.

"Are you going to help Professor Quirrell, sir?"

Albus blinked and looked up to find the boy studying him with those startling green eyes. They hadn't been equally startling in Lily Evans's face, he remembered. Then again, the silver dolphin swimming through the air beside her, while remarkable, hadn't been a challenge to everything he believed in.

"In time, my dear boy, in time."

"But he's suffering right _now_! And his familiar must be suffering all the time, with that horrible snake inside her! I mean, I like snakes. I'm glad I have Golden. And Professor Snape's is really handsome. But Professor Quirrell is supposed to have a rabbit. Not a snake."

"I assure you that I am working on it, Harry."

Albus put a little sternness in his tone, but the boy didn't seem impressed by it. That made Albus grieve. He knew Harry, growing up in the Muggle world as he had done, couldn't have really understood what it meant to stand at the top of the wizarding hierarchy when Hagrid had first taken him shopping in Diagon Alley. Was this a sign that he had indeed adapted, too fast, and would disdain the people around him as being beneath him?

"But he needs help."

"Any solution would take time, even something drastic. I think you probably know that, Harry, with the amount of research I suspect you have had your friends do on possession."

"I know. But—it would really help, sir, to know that you're moving forwards and you're going to do something about it. Are you? Could you just tell me what it is and when you're going to do it?"

Albus's heart did melt at seeing the compassion in that small face. No, he was sure the boy hadn't lost the lessons of pity and humility he would have learned in the Muggle world. He simply wasn't the best at expressing himself, but then, what eleven-year-old was? Albus must remember not to judge him too harshly.

"I'm afraid that I can't tell you what it is, Harry, because if Professor Quirrell is possessed by the spirit I think he is possessed by, then he would read the truth out of your mind. But I can tell you that it will be solved by the end of term."

Harry blinked. "Oh. By the Christmas hols, sir?"

"Oh, possibly. By the end of the year, at least, in June."

Harry sat up as though someone had jerked him up like a puppet. "Please, sir, that's not enough. Please move faster."

"But these things cannot be rushed at all." Albus linked his fingers together, and nodded at Fawkes, sitting on his perch a few feet away. Fawkes obediently sang a trill of notes. "It's like Fawkes maturing from a chick to an adult and then rebirthing himself in fire. Rushing it would mean that he wouldn't be a mature phoenix, only a firebird."

He'd hoped to make Harry smile, but Harry was too intent. "Could you speed it up so it _is_ by the Christmas holidays? Sir."

"No, Harry, I do not think I can." Albus had hoped at one point that things would be solved faster than they looked to be moving, but now, he assumed that he would need until the end of the year for Quirinus to either find a way past the traps and find himself confounded, or ask for help. He couldn't perform any ritual or spell that would affect the possession without free consent from the victim. The other ways were all intolerably Dark magic.

"Okay." Harry hung his head. Albus stood up and came around the desk to hug his shoulders with one arm. He remembered being downcast like that himself, especially after he realized that nothing he did would bring Ariana back or fix his own mistakes.

He could only do better going forwards in the future. And one of the things he had learned was how not to make the same mistakes. He wouldn't move too fast. He wouldn't fire spells impulsively. He wouldn't just assume that someone would do what he wanted, the way he had assumed Aberforth would stay home from Hogwarts and take care of Ariana. He would ask, and consider things from many angles, and wait for permission.

"I assure you that things are under control, Harry, probably better than you think. And you are a child, in any case. A child should not have to concern himself with adult problems."

"Even if I have a golden familiar, sir?"

Albus blinked and shook his head. "No. Has someone been telling you that you should?" Severus was the most likely candidate. He did seem to be much more bothered about Harry having a golden familiar than he should be.

"Just—people expect a lot of me. And I want to help them."

"Professor Quirrell is going to be helped, Harry. I promise. When he asks for help, then I can conduct the proper spell to banish the spirit that possesses him."

"So there's a spell you can only do with permission, sir?"

"Just so, Harry. You have to have the consent of the victim, if it is to remain Light magic."

Harry was looking a little calmer now, and he nodded, as if satisfied that Albus's explanation made sense. Then he leaped off the chair and asked, "Can I go now, sir? I've got some homework that I have to do."

Albus chuckled indulgently. The boy seemed to be taking less on his shoulders when he knew adults would handle it. He could relax back into being a child now—as he still was, no matter the implications of the golden snake at his heels. "Of course, my boy. But remember to eat dinner and take some time for yourself! I think you deserve a relaxing evening."

Harry smiled at him and then turned and left. Albus reached out to stroke Fawkes. His phoenix leaned into his touch with a worried little croon.

"Yes, his sense of responsibility is rather overdeveloped," Albus told Fawkes. "But that doesn't have to be a bad thing, as long as he can relax and play sometimes. And it's probably part of what got him into Hufflepuff. He'll start making some friends in his own House soon. They can teach him how to relax."

* * *

"He's not going to help Professor Quirrell, Golden."

Golden reared up against Harry's legs. They were in the Hufflepuff common room, but it was late, and almost everyone was in bed by now, if they weren't out serving detention. Cedric kept coming down the stairs to give him chiding looks, but Harry had said he would be up by curfew. Cedric was probably asleep by now. He hadn't come down the stairs in the past half-hour.

Golden studied him seriously, and then he nodded.

"And he wants to stick with Light magic."

Another nod.

"So we can't rely on him. But Professor Snape can't do this all alone and with just us. We need another adult. What do you think about…"

Harry tapped his fingers on the chair for a minute before Golden got his head underneath them and hovered there, extremely satisfied to have Harry petting _him_ instead. Harry smiled gently at him and stroked his scales with little motions.

"All right. We'll ask Draco about speaking to his mum tomorrow."


	14. Silver Shadow Snake, Part Eight

Thank you again for all the reviews!

 _Part Eight_

"You look less delighted than I would have thought, my dear."

"Of course I'm glad that young Mr. Potter is writing to me." Narcissa sipped from the cup of tea she'd had the house-elves prepare in an experimental way, and then sighed. It didn't hide the taste of the cosmetic potion. "I'm only puzzled about the reason. That he wants to help Quirinus Quirrell…"

" _Help_." Lucius lounged against Hecate's side, his hand trailing over the thick scales on her neck. "And what does he think is wrong with poor Professor Quirrell?"

"Possession."

"By…?"

"A powerful spirit is all the letter says." Narcissa put the parchment aside and looked at her husband over the dining table. Venus leaned against her side, the way that Lucius was leaning against Hecate, but Narcissa only stroked her head absently. She did not feel the need of _comfort_ right now, exactly. "And I do wonder what kind of spirit could be powerful enough both to possess someone capable of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts and to escape the Headmaster's eye in the school."

Lucius's breathing quickened a moment later. "A spirit perhaps powerful enough to punish those who fight against it?"

Narcissa let her eyes flicker to her husband's left arm, and then she nodded. "Precisely." She stood. "Well, Mr. Potter has invited me to a private meeting, with all the assurance of someone who has the right to do that. Perhaps he is interested in picking up his political mantle after all. Perhaps this letter asking for help for Quirrell is only a ruse."

"Rather a clever one for him to have come up with on his own."

"Yes. Although Draco may be helping him."

"And not telling us about it?"

Narcissa inclined her head in recognition of that likely impossibility, and then turned and walked towards the fireplace. She would Floo into one of the Hogsmeade shops that had a public hearth and make her way to the school from there.

Venus gave a low, rattling growl next to her. Narcissa stroked her neck for a moment until the snow leopard was calm.

"I know that you will defend me on the unlikely chance that this turns out to be a trap," she told her familiar.

Venus flashed her rune-carved fangs, and followed Narcissa into the flames the moment she cast the Floo powder.

* * *

"I want to be there," Draco had said.

Harry had looked at him hard. "Why?"

"Because you have no idea what my mother can do."

"Can you defend me from anything she might do in a way that Golden can't?"

That had made Draco wilt a little. "No," he muttered, and he sounded resentful.

Harry had nodded, and touched his friend's shoulder. "It's okay. If you want to do something while I'm meeting with your mother, could you try and get some more Slytherins on our side? I know not that many of them want to connect with me since I fought Voldemort, and some are still scared because they think I'm going to control their snake or lizard familiars. You'll talk to them for me, won't you?"

Draco had immediately brightened and promised that he would. Harry was waiting near the edge of the grounds with Golden. He'd been to visit Hagrid, and he had a reason to be out there. And he trusted Narcissa Malfoy to come up with an excuse as to why she was visiting Hogwarts if she had to.

But she came walking towards him with no trouble, appearing so suddenly that Harry thought she must be under a charm to make it hard to see her. She was a tall woman with long pale hair and a silver snow leopard at her side. Harry nodded. She was the kind of woman Aunt Petunia would have liked to be, regal and knowing.

"Mr. Potter." Mrs. Malfoy made a little nod to him that went almost down to the height of her shoulder, and she bent over with her hands on her knees, too. Why was she…Oh. Bowing. Harry wanted to sigh, but he had to use this right now. "I am Narcissa Malfoy. This is my familiar, Venus."

"She's beautiful," Harry said, with a smile, and the snow leopard gave him what seemed like a confused glance. _Probably people with golden familiars aren't supposed to praise silver ones or something._ Harry held his eyes still and nodded to Mrs. Malfoy. "Can I talk to you about Professor Quirrell?"

"Of course, Mr. Potter." Mrs. Malfoy drew her wand, and Golden moved in front of Harry, but all she did was cast a shimmering line in the air. "Now we can be neither seen nor heard," she explained, and sat on a rock facing the lake. "What do you know about the spirit that has possessed poor Quirinus?"

"It's Voldemort, so we need to use a powerful ritual to get rid of it."

Mrs. Malfoy turned paler, which Harry hadn't known was possible, and clenched her hands in her familiar's ruff for a minute. Then she nodded and forced her hands to open. "Very well. You—you realize that we cannot simply fight him."

"I know. That's why I'm talking about this ritual. But right now, it's going to take a long time to put together because some of the ingredients are expensive. I wanted to know if you could buy some of them or gather some of them."

Mrs. Malfoy blinked several times. Venus gave a little growl but subsided when Mrs. Malfoy touched her neck again. "That is an unusual request. What would I gain from this?"

"I would be grateful. I don't know what that's worth to you, but if you wanted some money or something—"

"The favor of someone who commands a golden familiar will be more than enough."

"I don't command Golden. We work together."

"Golden…I had somehow expected a more sophisticated name, Mr. Potter."

Harry snorted. "I gave it to him when I was three and he won't let me change it. If you can convince him to be called something else, feel free."

Mrs. Malfoy actually let her jaw fall a little, and then snapped it back up. Harry had the impression that didn't happen to her very often. He smiled patiently, and Mrs. Malfoy inclined her head and murmured, "Golden, then. Very well. Are you intending to go into politics when you get old enough, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes," Harry said firmly. He knew he didn't mean that exactly the way most people around him did—the way that Cormac's relatives were in politics in the Ministry, for instance. They meant they wanted to change minds and maybe bribe people and get some attention and power. Harry meant that he wanted to change laws and get people more equal and to stop bowing to wizards and witches just because they had golden familiars.

But for right now, there wasn't that much difference. He would help people like Mrs. Malfoy and Cormac's relatives until he got to the point where they couldn't help each other anymore.

"Will helping one person help you achieve that?"

"Yes."

Mrs. Malfoy waited. Harry just kept his silence. He knew she would probably imagine some devious plan. Draco had kept doing that until Harry corrected him. And Professor Snape liked to imagine plots, too. The difference was that he saw plots that were happening, like the way Headmaster Dumbledore refused to help poor Professor Quirrell.

"Very well. Then in exchange for favors at a future time and your assurance that your friendship with our son will continue, we will help you with this ritual."

Harry nodded. He thought Mrs. Malfoy didn't sound entirely happy. Maybe she didn't think they could do it. She should think better, but Harry would show her that, not tell her that. "Thanks, Mrs. Malfoy. Anyway, this is a list of some of the ingredients that are a problem to get a hold of." He held out a list he'd written down from the book Hermione had found the ritual in. She'd offered to write it for him, but Harry was the only one who knew which ones to take off because Professor Snape could find them.

Mrs. Malfoy took the list and looked it over. Harry saw her eyes widen, but honestly didn't know what at. There were lots of things on there that were hard to grow or rare or semi-illegal. "All right," she said, with a nod, and folded the paper up and put it in her pocket. She studied him for a second. "Why do you want to help Professor Quirrell so badly, Mr. Potter?"

Harry didn't know what answer she would have expected to that, so he gave her the truth. "Because he's in trouble."

Mrs. Malfoy sat back with a faint sigh. "One of the first things you need to know if you go into politics is that it's never that simple."

"It is for me."

Golden nudged him hard in the side. Harry reached out and put a hand on him. Yes, he _had_ seen the way Mrs. Malfoy's eyes lit up like she'd put fire inside them. He knew what it meant. She thought he was simple. Simple to trick, or she could make him do what she wanted. But it wasn't true.

"We'll take that as your motivation for now, then," said Mrs. Malfoy, and stood up. "Who is helping you on this besides Draco?"

Harry weighed his options for a second. He wasn't going to tell her everyone, but she would probably discard most of his friends, anyway. So he had to tell her the only adult. "Professor Snape."

"An excellent choice." Mrs. Malfoy reached out a hand, and only after a second did Harry realize she wanted him to shake it. The Dursleys hadn't wanted him to shake _anyone's_ hand. "Well, Mr. Potter, this was a productive meeting. I will be in touch by owl about what I can find and what I cannot."

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. Please owl me if you need more details about the ritual or Professor Quirrell, too."

She smiled at him and cast another charm that made her fade from sight, although Harry thought he could still see a little shimmer of movement when she went back up the path. Her familiar growled at Harry as she also faded from sight. Harry sighed and stood up to go back to the school.

Today was a day of meetings. He was going to meet Cormac's relative from the Ministry department, too, and have to talk about his relatives.

Golden nudged him in the leg and then rambled ahead, sticking his tongue out to sniff for anything small and tasty.

Harry smiled. It was a good reminder that he was never alone no matter what happened.

* * *

"He really said that? That helping Quirrell is his only motivation?"

"Yes. And I don't think he's playing a game, although that familiar of his does shimmer with power. It's his only motivation. We can easily use him as a figurehead, and teach Draco how to use him, as well."

Lucius leaned back with a faint smile at the ceiling. Hecate was sleeping next to him now, but he reached down absently and stroked her neck. Narcissa nodded. Her husband and his familiar were powerful; she and Venus were powerful. They might not have as much favor in the public eye as someone with a golden familiar, but they had much more political standing and _under_ standing. In the end, Harry Potter would follow them, never knowing he did so.

"Are we going to gather these materials and go against the Dark Lord?"

"If he is the spirit possessing Quirrell, then he is weak and desperate," said Narcissa, with a shake of her head. "We can easily spin this as helping him to gain a stronger vessel if he does come back. And I wonder…the Dark Lord had a _silver_ snake and was unwilling to compromise. If we decided that we had more of a future with a child dependent on us, who could blame us?"

Lucius sighed, a happy sound. Hecate whuffled in her sleep. Venus pressed against her. Narcissa smiled, and opened the parchment Potter had given her.

 _This is our chance. By the time he wakes up, if ever, he will be wrapped too deeply in our web to withdraw._


	15. Silver Shadow Snake, Part Nine

Thank you again for all the reviews!

 _Part Nine_

"Welcome, Mr. Potter. I hope that you'll benefit from what I have to say to you today."

Harry blinked. It wasn't how he'd expected Cormac's relative to begin. "Hi," he said, watching the man as he stepped forwards. He was a tall man, but he had a big belly, and he was wearing dark blue robes with silver edging on the bottom and the sleeves. Harry didn't know what that meant. Another thing he had to look up. On his shoulder, rubbing her head against his cheek, was a small bronze monkey. "What's your full name, sir?"

The man laughed gently. "You don't have to call me that. Just call me Julian. My full name's Julian Kindle. And this is Sara." He gently flicked his familiar's back, and she sat up and clasped her hands in front of her and bowed to Golden. "And I assume that you don't want me to bow to you and call you 'my lord'?"

Harry stared at him in disgust. "Who _does_ that?"

"Traditional people." Julian gestured him towards one of the only two chairs in the room. It actually hadn't been hard to find a room in Hogwarts that they could meet in. Harry had gone exploring a lot, and sent Golden to explore, and there were dozens of empty rooms. It was kind of sad that there weren't that many people in Hogwarts. "It's one of the reasons that Voldemort displeased so many people and didn't have as many Death Eaters as he might have. He claimed the title 'Lord' even though he didn't have a golden familiar."

Harry immediately sat up. "You said his name."

"I see more terrifying things every day than his war," said Julian, and his face was sad and heavy suddenly. He sat down and flicked his dark hair back out of the way. Sara ran up onto the back of his chair and sat there watching Harry and Golden, turning her head back and forth. "Wounds to minds and souls. You must not be afraid of speaking freely to me, Mr. Potter."

Harry swallowed. Golden nudged up beside him and rubbed his snout against Harry's arm. "It's not as bad as it would have been if Golden wasn't there."

"That's like saying that a broken arm isn't as bad as a broken leg." Julian put his chin on his fist and stared at him. "Isn't it?"

Harry looked away. "Yes." He felt memories seeping back. Times he'd been lonely because the Dursleys didn't speak to him for days. Times that he _would_ have had broken bones, but Golden had cushioned him. Times the Dursleys muttered about him being a freak but shut up when he and Golden came into the room.

"You're tensing, Mr. Potter. Is there something you want to tell me about?"

Harry sighed and admitted, "They hurt me. I just—I don't like saying it because it _could_ have been worse. And I've done some reading," he added, because he had once Cormac said Julian would be coming to talk to him. "I know that a lot of laws about abuse are for things a _lot_ worse."

"Most abused children do not have golden familiars, that's true."

"But they were still _abused!_ I don't want you to say that I'm special because I have Golden—"

Julian raised a hand. "I'm not saying that, Mr. Potter. I'm saying that you will be an unusual case no matter what. And people will be outraged. And the person—people?—who put you with the Dursleys in the first place may be more outraged still."

"I don't have _proof_ about that."

"You could get proof, though. Can't you? Have you thought of questioning the adults in the castle?"

Harry blinked. "How do I know for sure that one of them put me there?"

Julian studied him, then sighed and said, "At the conclusion of the war with Voldemort, there was a group of wizards and witches who opposed him. I only knew three facts about them for certain, other than the fact that several of their members died to oppose Voldemort and his Dark magic. They were called the Order of the Phoenix, your parents were members, and they were led by Albus Dumbledore."

Harry closed his eyes. "Familiars don't manifest until you're eighteen months old or two years, right?"

"That is the usual age, yes."

"And I was fifteen months old when I went to the Dursleys. So—he wouldn't have known I'd have Golden."

"You think Dumbledore put you there, I take it."

"It makes sense. And I have people who are telling me that he's jealous of me because I have a golden familiar and he does, too." Harry licked his lips and suddenly told the truth that he couldn't tell to Professor Snape and Hermione, because they were so insistent all the time. "But that's _stupid!_ He's older and he's famous and he's powerful and he has all these things I don't! What does he have to be jealous of?"

"The first three things you named apply to you as well, Mr. Potter. I don't know for certain what he would covet that you have, but he has been the only wizard with a golden familiar in Britain for more than a century. I can see him being—uneasy at sharing the top of the hierarchy."

"Why do you keep calling me Mr. Potter when you told me to call you Julian?"

"Because you haven't invited me to use your first name, and I would not be impolite. My lord."

Harry scowled at him. Julian smiled back. "Fine. Please call me Harry."

"Thank you, Harry. Now. It is true that we can't know for certain yet whether Albus Dumbledore placed you with your Muggles, but there are professors in the castle that I suspect were members of the Order of the Phoenix—"

"You said you only know—"

"I only know those four facts _for certain_. I suspect much. I would not be surprised if Minerva McGonagall was a member of the Order. She has worked with Dumbledore a long time and was his best student in Transfiguration. Shared magical specialties can create strong bonds between wizards. Now, you might ask her what she knows, and portray yourself as a confused child. She would not willingly help to get Dumbledore in trouble."

"Is he going to be in trouble?"

"That depends. You still haven't been clear with me about how bad it was at the Dursleys'."

Harry grimaced and nodded. "Okay. They didn't like feeding me. A lot of the time, I got food anyway, because Golden brought it to me. But they didn't want to give it to me.

"I lived in a cupboard part of the time I was there. My cousin Dudley did this thing called Harry Hunting. Golden kept him from doing that most of the time, too, but he was so stupid that he kept doing it. Well, he couldn't see Golden, so I reckon that was part of it. They tried to push me down the stairs. They dragged me around by the arm. I did a lot of chores. They called me 'freak' all the time…"

Julian listened to him intently, eyes so unwavering that Harry was starting to wonder if he could use Legilimency like he'd read about. Well, if he did, then Harry was convinced he would just use it to get Harry away from the Dursleys. He was pretty unwavering about that, too.

And Harry trusted Julian. He'd already told him about the Order of the Phoenix and the "lord" thing about Voldemort that he hadn't known.

Julian sagged back into his chair when he finished, and glanced at Sara. She bobbed her head.

"Sara will remember this conversation for me, Harry," Julian said quietly. "She remembers every word and nuance. A familiar has to be specially trained to do that, and you can't do it if you have a tin familiar. In most cases, it will be _my_ memory that goes into the Pensieve for the other Ministry officials. Did Cormac explain what a Pensive does to you?"

"My friend Hermione did. She read about it. But what do you mean that it's in _most_ cases?"

"There have been cases when someone tried to use what's called the Memory Charm on a wizard from my department investigating an abuse case, to make them forget what they saw and heard from the victim. Sometimes the abusers themselves. But no one can _Obliviate_ a familiar. Sara holds the memory for me."

Harry swallowed. "You're worried Dumbledore might do that."

"Smart lad. Yes, I am. You may think this is not as bad as some other cases, but it is bad enough. And…I do have a certain kind of intuition, as one must to work with children like you, Harry. That intuition is telling me that he will be _displeased_ when he finds out about this conversation."

"I understand. Um, Julian, why don't you call him Lord Dumbledore? Did he tell you that you could call him by his last name?"

"No, of course not. I just don't have any respect for him."

"Why?"

"If what Cormac has told me is true, you have grander ambitions as a _child_ than he has shown in decades, Harry. Wizards with golden familiars are supposed to receive respect because of their power, but if they do _nothing_ with that power, what are we supposed to assume? Dumbledore has done little to change the classes taught at Hogwarts, or laws, or defend anyone but people he knows personally. He fought Voldemort, but not alone. And Voldemort's snake was _silver_ , no matter how terrifying he was. It should have been easy for Dumbledore to defeat him."

Harry had to frown, thinking about Professor Quirrell and the way Voldemort was possessing him. That had to be weird. "Maybe Voldemort knew magic that Professor Dumbledore didn't."

"Possible, I suppose." Julian's voice was flat. "But I will be happy to help you change our world, Harry. It's needed it for a long, long time. _Someone_ who has the power to do it should be ambitious around here."

"You were a Slytherin, right?"

Julian smiled wryly. "I was. But I hear that you're not hostile to Slytherins."

"I have friends in all the Houses. My friend Neville is in Hufflepuff, and Hermione is in Ravenclaw, and my friend Draco in Slytherin, and I know Cormac and Ron Weasley in Gryffindor."

Julian nodded slowly. "Then you have already begun to build from a broader base than Dumbledore managed to. Almost all the members of the Order of the Phoenix who I know or suspect were Gryffindors in school."

"But not all of them."

"I don't know for certain about all of them. Your parents were in Gryffindor, and Minerva McGonagall."

Harry nodded back. "Okay. Then I'll ask her. And you'll take the memories to the Ministry and give them to someone so I can get away from the Dursleys for the summer?" He held his breath as he waited for Julian to reply. He wanted _so much_ to get away from the Dursleys when he thought about it. He hadn't suffered there all that much, but he'd suffered some, and he knew that people worried about him. He didn't want them to worry. So he had to get away.

"Yes. It'll take a few days, but not as long as it normally would. The investigation will go fast because it's _you_."

Julian spoke like he thought Harry would be upset. Harry was, a little, but he knew that this had to happen first before he could change things. He bit his lips and nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Julian."

"Thank you for the amount of hope you have returned to my life. The things I was taught in my youth about people with golden familiars have a chance of coming true after all." Julian paused. "Would you mind if I did one more thing?"

"What?"

Julian bowed to him. "Just once. My lord."

Harry could feel his cheeks turning red, although Golden was coiling around and around in a circle that meant _he_ thought it was funny. "Um. Okay."

Julian smiled at him and left, with Sara waving her curly tail goodbye to him. Harry stood there and just breathed for a second.

He would do this. He would make it so that people wouldn't _want_ to bow to him, and people wouldn't want to get all scornful of people with tin familiars, and he would do that over time. This was just the first step.

He calmed down when he thought about that. Then he went to talk to Professor Snape. There were things he'd thought of, and he wanted to see how the ritual to help Professor Quirrell was going.


	16. Silver Shadow Snake, Part Ten

Thank you again for all the reviews!

 _Part Ten_

"Professor McGonagall, can I talk to you?"

Professor McGonagall turned around with a little frown. She had her bronze tomcat walking beside her balancing a stack of essays on his head. Malkin seemed to frown a little, too, or at least his mouth was set in between his whiskers. Golden just looked at him, and he calmed down.

"Of course, Mr. Potter. But perhaps not in the middle of the corridor?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, Professor. Can we go to your office?"

"Well, at least no one can say that you're not a polite young man," Professor McGonagall muttered under her breath as she nodded to Harry and kept walking up the corridor with Malkin. Harry followed her, wondering. Why did she think he might not be polite? Were people gossiping about him or something?

Golden nudged his hip. When Harry looked down at him, he hissed softly, " _Dursleys_."

Right. Of course Professor McGonagall wouldn't think he was polite if she knew he was raised by them. So Harry got more cheerful. That must mean she knew who had put him there.

They got to Professor McGonagall's office, which seemed to have everything in the kind of order Aunt Petunia loved and tried to make Harry do. Malkin hopped up on the professor's desk without disturbing the stack of essays on his head. Harry gasped. "That's really impressive," he told the cat.

"You'll flatter him," said Professor McGonagall, but she was smiling. She went and sat down behind her desk. "Now. Please tell me what's wrong, Mr. Potter."

Harry sat up and looked her right in the face. "Okay. So there's something I need to know, and I thought maybe you'd know the answer, Professor. Who left me with the Dursleys after my parents died?"

For a second, Harry thought his professor would fall over. But then she nodded slowly. "It was the Headmaster, Mr. Potter. Mr. Hagrid brought you from your parents' home to the Dursleys, and Professor Dumbledore and I met him there and—left you on the doorstep."

Golden pressed hard against his leg for a second. Harry petted his head. _Poor Golden._ This was harder for him to hear about than it was Harry. Golden wanted it so that nothing bad would ever happen to Harry. Harry accepted it happened sometimes. "Why were you there, Professor?"

"The Headmaster had wanted me to watch your relatives the day before and see what kind of people they were, to see if they would welcome a magical child among them."

"Did you _see_ what kind of people they were, Professor?"

Harry couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. He was sorry for it when he saw Professor McGonagall flinch, but he kept watching her. She took a deep, slow breath. "Yes, I did, Mr. Potter. I told the Headmaster that they were the worst kind of Muggles and I couldn't believe he intended to leave you there. But he said you should have the chance to grow up with family and—and it would be dangerous for you in our world."

"Hm." Harry felt Golden press harder against his side. He knew what Professor Snape and Julian would probably say, but Harry had another question to ask. "Is there any way that you can tell what color someone's familiar will be before it manifests, Professor?"

Professor McGonagall gave him a faint frown. "Not that I know of, Mr. Potter. It can be a source of considerable anxiety for parents who see their children as—more a reflection of themselves than their own individuals. Why do you ask?"

"I was just thinking I didn't have my familiar then. No one knew it would be gold."

Professor McGonagall immediately came around the desk and knelt in front of him. "You were _not_ left there because you had a golden familiar or no familiar or any familiar, Mr. Potter," she said fiercely. "You were left there because Professor Dumbledore thought it best. Please, please never think that we thought—that _I_ thought you could somehow survive better because we knew you were powerful. Please never think that you were unworthy of being raised within the wizarding world."

Malkin was nodding fiercely from on the desk. Harry smiled at him and then hugged Professor McGonagall. She went all stiff with surprise, but she didn't say anything, so Harry had to say, "I wasn't thinking about that, Professor. I just thought that maybe people knew I would be powerful and so it would be okay."

"It wasn't all right, was it?"

Harry shook his head a little. "No." He wasn't going to go into more detail, though. She might go and tell Dumbledore.

Professor McGonagall sighed so deeply that it made Harry's toes curl, and then she stood up and moved back from him, around the other side of the desk again. "Mr. Potter—Harry. Listen to me. There are people who can help you if your relatives have mistreated you. There's a department in the Ministry that has that as their sole business."

Harry kept his face calm and polite as he listened, and didn't laugh or say he knew, even though he wanted to. After Professor McGonagall finished giving him all the details, he stood up and said, "Thank you, Professor."

"You're welcome, Mr. Potter. I wish there was something else I could do."

"Um, actually there is. Professor, could you not tell anyone else? I want to tell them."

"Mr. Potter, if your relatives have treated you badly, then—"

"I know. But I'm going to handle it. I promise," Harry added hastily when he saw the way Professor McGonagall drew all her brows down. "Golden wouldn't let me ever go back on a promise. It'll happen."

Professor McGonagall seemed to think about that for a bit, and she glanced at Golden. Golden nodded. Malkin, on her desk, was stalking back and forth with all the hair on his tail standing out, but he calmed down when Professor McGonagall put a hand gently in the middle of his back.

"All right," she said at last. "If you promise me that you will have the problem corrected by the end of the year, when you have to face your relatives again. Can you do that with sincerity, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, Professor! I promise!"

Her face softened. "I was sad that you hadn't become a Gryffindor, but I think now that your House has suited you, Mr. Potter. And you're friends with some of my Gryffindors, correct?"

"Yes, Professor. Ron Weasley and Cormac McLaggen."

"They're good ones to be friends with," Professor McGonagall said quietly, although she seemed a little surprised at the same time. But Harry had given up on understanding some of the way people felt about Houses. It made no sense to him, like the way that people thought tin and copper familiars were inferior. He just had to accept it existed and then change it. "I hope you'll find a way around this."

Harry nodded to her and left the office with Golden silent and thoughtful behind him. It was time to find Professor Snape and ask about the ritual.

And then do some homework. Even though he had tried to convince Golden to hold a quill in his mouth and write, those essays wouldn't complete themselves.

* * *

Severus swore under his breath as he watched the owl winging away. He had tried to buy some of the refined silver they needed from the goblins, and the goblins asked all sorts of nasty questions in their message. And then the owl had left without waiting for a reply—no surer sign that they refused to help.

"Professor Snape, sir? Are you okay?"

Severus turned sharply around. Potter was standing in the doorway with his snake beside him, his eyes wide. Severus thought over his words and decided that there had been nothing an eleven-year-old probably wouldn't be aware of already. He nodded. "Merely having some trouble getting hold of some ingredients, Mr. Potter."

"Oh." Potter came a few steps into the room. "Mrs. Malfoy might be able to help with that."

"You told _her_ about what was going on?"

"Yeah, but it's okay, sir. I promise that she thinks she's going to get something out of it, and she's not going to get what she thinks."

Severus paused. There was a soul too old for a child behind those green eyes. Potter looked the same as ever otherwise, but—

"You manipulated her?"

"She thinks she's manipulating me. I think that she thinks I'm weak or naïve or something."

"And thus she is taken in," Severus muttered, understanding. He had thought of Potter as naïve at first, too. He must be, if he thought he could walk into Hogwarts and the wizarding world and change things to suit himself when they had stayed the same for so much longer than he'd been alive.

Now he understood what Narcissa had failed to see. Potter—Harry—might be the only one who _did_ have that power, if only because other people would give it to him the minute they saw Golden.

"Yes, sir. So why don't we let her buy some of the ingredients? You know, the rare ones and the expensive ones. And there are others that you can work on, right? Is there anything I can help with?"

"If you are right about Professor Quirrell being possessed by the Dark Lord," Severus asked slowly, "why do you want to help him? You recall that this is the man who killed your parents and tried to kill you?"

 _And who was Lily's doom._ The thought made the center of his chest squeeze tight, but Severus would not say it aloud. The child had enough to deal with.

"I know, sir. But I don't think Professor Quirrell was a bad man before he got possessed. And maybe we can get Voldemort out of him and make him go possess something else. Or bring his familiar back to life, and then he could possess _her_. I don't really want to kill anybody."

"But he killed your parents!"

"Um. I know. I don't _like_ him, sir. But I don't want to kill him, either. Do you always want to kill people who hurt you?"

Severus blinked. He would not answer the question, but it made him think some uncomfortable things.

"There are chances that many other people will push you to kill him," he said slowly.

"Like Professor Dumbledore, sir? And maybe some of the people who think that I'm a hero just because I have a golden familiar?" Harry sighed. "I know. But there's nothing I can _do_ about that, sir. I just have to keep going, and solve the problem the best way I can. Anyway, I'm going to get a Ministry investigation going. They're going to investigate the Dursleys at the same time. And I met Julian, who seems nice. And…"

Severus relaxed, for some reason, listening to the child's chatter. It was true that it would be useful to have someone with deeper vaults than he possessed to buy the expensive ingredients. And it was true that Harry needed to get away from his foul relatives. And it was true that he seemed to have managed to keep this away from Albus so far, since the man would certainly have wanted to keep Harry from meeting with "Julian."

It sounded all too good to be true, though. Severus was awaiting the moment when the stone wall fell on his head.

Monday morning, it came.


	17. Silver Shadow Snake, Part Eleven

Thank you again for all the reviews!

 _Part Eleven_

"I need to talk to you, Severus."

Albus delivered the words in a clipped, cold way, walking past Severus without a glance in his direction. Fawkes sat on his shoulder and did give a single mournful look back at him. Severus stood frozen in place for long moments.

Shadowstriker dancing on his neck brought him back to reality. They were just outside the Great Hall, and students would walk past any second and be able to see him and gossip to each other. Severus swallowed and began to move, his hand resting on his viper. By the time he claimed his usual seat, his face was as cold as ever.

In reality, he could only begin to guess what Albus had discovered. That Severus was aiding Harry? That he had gathered ingredients for the possession ritual? Severus looked at Albus during breakfast when he thought he could get away with doing so, but he laughed and made as many cryptic comments as always. No way to tell.

Severus did manage to catch Harry's eye as he stood to go to his first class. He twitched his left arm towards Albus, and saw the boy nod. That was the most he could do right now.

Severus taught that morning in what felt like a daze, although he knew his students would find his words as sharp and their potions as botched as usual. What would Albus do? Place him under some magical restriction, forbid him any more contact with Harry, break through his Occlumency and read his deepest thoughts?

 _He won't sack me. He knows Horace won't come back, and there's no other Potions expert in Britain who can match me._

But every other kind of dread dogged Severus's footsteps as he made his way to the Headmaster's office at noon, the time they always met.

"Ah. Come in."

Other than the first word, Albus did sound different. There were no endearments or offers of sweets. Severus still made himself take his seat in his usual chair and in his usual way. Shadowstriker had become silent and watchful, but that wasn't unusual.

Albus kept Severus waiting while he stroked Fawkes's breast feathers and made much of him. However, that probably didn't work the way he intended. It gave Severus time to recover his equilibrium.

 _Even if he does manage to ban me from contact with Harry somehow, Harry now has that investigation going in the Ministry. He would still manage to achieve what he wants._

Albus turned to face him, and said, "Severus, I am very disappointed in you."

Severus blinked. No vaguer lead-in could he have imagined. Of course, that was probably the point, to make him condemn himself out of his own mouth.

"I don't know why, Albus," he said. "I have been doing my job exceptionally well. I haven't even been complaining about the dunderheads in my classes as much as usual—"

"You _know_ that you have been interfering in my plans, Severus. We cannot yet do the ritual to remove the spirit that has possessed Quirinus, and you plan to do it!"

So that was it, then. Severus calmed down Shadowstriker with a touch. Fawkes was only sitting on his perch, watching. Of course, Albus had such perfect command of his emotions that his familiar didn't often reflect them. "I am doing what I believe to be right."

"No, you are doing what Harry tricked you into. That child, Severus—"

"I know my own mind better than to be _tricked_ by a child, Albus."

"But how can I assume that you would do something so reckless for James Potter's son?" Albus shook his head, and then held out his arm. Fawkes stepped from his perch to Albus's shoulder, his eyes never leaving Severus and his viper. "You would not. Everyone who knows you would agree on that. That means it must either be a trick, a promise of power, or, of course, the well-known way that an untrained child with a golden familiar can influence people without meaning to."

Severus froze. He hadn't thought of that bit of lore, because there had been no children with golden familiars in so long, but he remembered it now. Magic spread around such people and their familiars like a puddle of rainwater. It could bend wills, change minds, make unreasonable words seem like the definition of reason.

Children who did that were—contained. There were ways of doing so that would leave them fundamentally unable to use their spreading magic, only intentional spells powered by a wand, until they were seventeen. Then they would be released from their bindings and expected never to use such magic again. They were adults and should control themselves.

If Albus accused Harry of such a thing, then there would be no end to the distrust that Harry would experience. Other people would question their every interaction with him, their every positive thought towards him. The investigation he had started in the Ministry would halt. His classmates would shun him. Some of the old traditional families might even take their children out of Hogwarts, to have them examined by Mind-Healers and make sure they hadn't been influenced by Harry's magic.

Severus didn't _think_ he had been warped by Harry's magic in that way, any more than he was by Albus's anymore. But no one would believe him.

"If…"

Severus looked up. Albus was watching him with serious eyes. He nodded once Severus looked at him.

" _If_ I make the accusation. I don't have to. There's no reason that anyone ever has to know of young Harry as anything but a magically talented child and the future savior of Britain. If you back off helping him with the possession ritual."

"And anything else?"

"Of course anything else, Severus. No extra help with homework. No tutoring for potions. No private meetings. Keep in mind what happens if you don't."

Severus took a deep breath and risked his one push. "I've read some books that suggest the spreading magic of those with golden familiars isn't real. Just a rumor invented by someone jealous of their power, who wanted an excuse to constrain them."

Albus smiled. "Yes, books do say all sorts of things. And newspapers say different ones. At this point in the history of our world, Severus, which one do you think is more liked to be believed?"

Severus swallowed. "Fine. But you will not harm the boy, or I will consider my promise broken."

"I will only do what must be done for a young child's good, Severus. To make sure that people aren't afraid of him, and he has the chance to grow and become what he should be."

Severus stood up, but the moment was balanced, and he dared to speak the words, because Albus was in a good enough mood not to consider them a threat. "Someone who can never be your rival in power?"

Albus's face softened, proving even that blow had not gone home. "You have terrible ideas about both me and young Harry, Severus, if you think that he would ever suffer that fate."

Severus only inclined his head and left. Shadowstriker was dancing frantically around his neck. Severus rested a hand on the snake's spine, and thought about various ways to communicate what had happened as he walked down the stairs.

Not even Albus could track the movement of every familiar in the school at once. And Harry was a Parselmouth.

"Go and tell Harry what you witnessed," he ordered Shadowstriker the moment he reached a portion of the corridor outside Albus's office that had no portraits.

Shadowstriker wriggled into a small opening at the base of a tapestry without protest, even though most of the time he hated leaving Severus. Severus straightened his spine and kept walking, although he had never felt less like going and teaching his afternoon classes.

He had chosen his side. He had no idea at the moment what he could do to _help_ that side other than warning Harry. But it would be something.

* * *

" _I understand_ ," Harry told Shadowstriker, and sighed. The silver snake's recollections had sometimes been confused, but he knew enough to know that Dumbledore had threatened Professor Snape, and he would have to back off. " _Please go back and do everything you can to make sure that he feels thanked_."

Shadowstriker bobbed his head in what could have been a bow or a nod and then slid back into the little crack in the wall that he'd come out of. Harry sat back against the big stuffed chair in the Hufflepuff common room that he liked and petted Golden while he stared into the fire.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Harry?"

Harry blinked up at Cedric. The older boy was giving him a concerned look. His bronze leopard familiar, Nebulous, sniffed noses with Golden. Harry smiled a little. Nebulous was one of the few animals who never treated Golden any differently, just like Cedric never treated Harry that way.

"No, thank you, Cedric," he said. "Unless—can you tell me if people think people with golden familiars are dangerous?"

"Well, of course you can be," said Cedric, and gave him a thoughtful look. "But it doesn't mean you _have_ to be. You can help people with your power just as much as you can hurt them. Has someone been telling you that you're dangerous, Harry?"

"I just wonder if people are going to start fearing me."

" _No._ Don't worry about that. You know that no one is falling all over themselves to help you—"

"Well, I mean, I made a lot of friends in a lot of Houses—"

"And there are still people who ignore you, and people who say ignorant things about you." From the frown Cedric was giving, some of those people were Hufflepuffs. "No, don't worry about it. I know people will stand behind you."

"All right. Thank you, Cedric."

Cedric gave him one more smile and went to bed, nodding at Harry as he did so. "It's curfew soon. You should go to bed. You need your sleep."

"I will," Harry promised, and sat up only a little while longer, stroking Golden, before he went to his bedroom and curled up in his bed. It was next to Neville's.

It was possible that he hadn't understood everything Shadowstriker had said, or Shadowstriker hadn't understood everything. But Cedric had made him feel better.

* * *

Severus stiffened in surprise when two wizards in the robes of Aurors marched through the doors of the Great Hall. The students gasped, and one of the second-years at the Ravenclaw table asked in a tone of confusion, "Aunt Irene?"

Other than a fleeting smile, neither of the Aurors acknowledged the children. They took up stiff guard poses on either side of the doors, their wands drawn. Marching behind them came Minister Fudge, a tall wizard whom Severus didn't know, and Amelia Bones. Severus leaned slowly back in his seat, his eyebrows rising further.

"Can I help you, gentlemen, Madam Bones?" Albus sounded completely warm and genial, but Fawkes had ruffled all his feathers out and was watching the visitors carefully.

Bones looked at him with a fierce scowl. Her silver tiger familiar, crouched next to her, rumbled threateningly. Severus had heard that she called the tiger Phantom, and that, drawing on a mixture of his magic and hers, he could pass through walls and materialize inside hidden rooms and hostage situations.

"I want you to explain, Albus Dumbledore," Bones said, "how you could leave a child who is the savior of our world and born to the gold with abusive Muggles. I want an explanation _now._ "


	18. Silver Shadow Snake, Part Twelve

Thank you again for all the reviews!

 _Part Twelve_

Things seemed to move very quickly after that.

Harry stood up with Golden rearing beside him. Madam Bones glanced at him and smiled, although her tiger never took his eyes from Dumbledore. "Ah, there you are, Mr. Potter. You realize who we are?"

"I, um, I've seen your picture in the papers a few times, Madam Bones," Harry said in a dazed way. "And Minister Fudge, too." The Minister was sweating and looked unhappy, but he also smiled at Harry. Harry glanced at Julian, who had walked in behind Madam Bones, and nodded at him. He wasn't sure if he should say that he knew Julian or not.

"Good." Madam Bones faced Dumbledore. "Could you come down and take us to your office, Albus? So we could discuss this in private?"

Dumbledore sighed and walked slowly down from the Head Table. Fawkes was flying next to him. He landed on Dumbledore's arm and looked around, but Harry couldn't see what exactly he was looking at.

"I'm sure we will find that this is a misunderstanding," Dumbledore said.

"Oh, we might," said Madam Bones. Her voice was sharp. "But we can't find that out until we discuss it, can we? Come, Mr. Potter."

Harry squeezed Neville's shoulder, because Neville was trembling next to him. His Gran, who he talked about all the time, had told him that he would probably go to prison if he ever saw an Auror, Harry knew. He didn't think much of Neville's Gran. "I'm going to be all right," he said quietly, and waited until Neville nodded before he walked away. Golden slid next to him.

Madam Bones and Minister Fudge were both gaping at him. "So it _is_ true," Harry thought he heard Minister Fudge mutter.

Harry blinked at him. Did he think the photographs in the newspapers lied? Harry knew there had been a lot of them.

"It is," said Julian, enough under his breath that Harry didn't think Dumbledore would hear it as he walked ahead of them. "That and all the rest."

Fudge swallowed nervously. Harry ignored that as best he could and followed them up the stairs and around the corner.

They climbed some more stairs until they came to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore walked in and sat down behind his desk. Madam Bones didn't sit down, standing and facing him, and Harry felt Golden nudge his hip not to sit, either. But Minister Fudge and Julian took the two chairs that were there. The Minister's familiar was a copper bird with a really long tail who sat on his shoulder and fluffed its tail feathers out every now and then.

The Minister saw him looking, and smiled. "This is my bird-of-paradise, King."

"He's very handsome," Harry said, which made King puff out and strut so much that Harry thought he was going to fall off the Minister's shoulder. "This is Golden."

"Young when you named him?"

"Yes, sir."

The Minister chuckled and started to say something else, but Madam Bones interrupted. "We're in private now, Albus. I want to hear _exactly_ what you meant by leaving young Harry with Muggles."

"I intended only his good."

"That is not the story _I_ heard."

"Now, Amelia. Are you questioning the word of someone with a golden familiar?"

 _That's right, you can't do that unless it contradicts Pensieve memories or something,_ Harry thought, his heart sinking. He caught Julian's eye, though, and Julian looked smiling and calm. Even his monkey was leaning against his neck instead of sitting up and wringing her hands. So Harry relaxed as much as he could and looked at Dumbledore and Fawkes.

"Of course not," said Madam Bones, with a smile that Harry thought was nasty. "If you said that you intended only his good, then I have to believe you. But I can still question your _actions,_ Albus. Are you aware that they made him sleep in a cupboard? That they tried to push him down the stairs? That his familiar had to act to protect him and even feed him?"

Dumbledore blinked several times. Then he turned and gave Harry a deeply disappointed look. "Did you tell these—exaggerations, Harry?"

"Are you questioning the word of someone with a golden familiar, Albus?" Julian drawled.

 _He really enjoyed saying that,_ Harry thought. Even though Julian still looked calm, he was sure of what he was thinking.

"Of course not." Dumbledore reached up and stroked Fawkes's feathers. He looked calm, too, but Harry didn't think he was. "But I do know that sometimes children say things they don't mean. Or they might—influence someone to say things they don't mean." He looked at the other adults as if they should know what he was talking about. Harry didn't know.

"Impossible," Madam Bones said. She drew out something from her pocket. It looked like a silver coin. But she put it on Dumbledore's desk and tapped it with her wand, and it started to grow. When it was bigger than her head, Harry blinked. It looked like a giant silver bowl. "Such spreading magic can't influence familiars. And we have here the familiar's testimony recorded as a Pensieve memory."

Dumbledore smiled. It looked strained. "You never know what someone with a golden familiar can do—"

"Yes. Like place a child with abusive Muggles."

Harry swallowed a little. Madam Bones wasn't going to let that go, and that was good. But he wasn't sure how he felt about having his life with the Dursleys announced in front of everyone in the Great Hall. They might think things were worse than they were. Or they might go to the Muggle world and try to punish the Dursleys.

Harry didn't want to see them again if he didn't have to. But he didn't want them hurt, either.

"I have explained why I did that."

"And I have explained why we're talking to you now."

Dumbledore leaned around Madam Bones to look at Harry. "Your relatives didn't really abuse you, did they, Harry? You can admit you exaggerated. I know that you don't enjoy being there. But it is the safest place for you."

Harry swallowed again. "They did abuse me," he said. "They were never kind to me. They hated magic. I wouldn't have been able to eat and stop my cousin from hurting me if not for Golden. And I _know_ that I didn't have him when I first went there. I know that familiars don't manifest until someone is eighteen months old. I was fifteen months old. I didn't have him."

He was just telling the truth and what he had learned from Julian. He didn't expect the look of complete triumph that settled over Madam Bones's face, or the way she turned to Dumbledore as if she was going to jump on him. Her tiger bared hungry teeth and edged closer to the desk, his eyes fixed on Fawkes.

 _No silver familiar can challenge a golden familiar and live, though, right?_ Harry thought he'd read something in a book about that.

Golden writhed under his hand. Harry looked down at him, and the memory passed into his eyes from Golden's glowing ones. Yes, there was a book page, and it said that no silver familiar could _successfully_ challenge a golden one.

 _But maybe he doesn't want to kill Fawkes. He just wants to keep him busy if Dumbledore does something._

A second later, Harry blinked. "I didn't know you could do that," he muttered to Golden in the tone he had used around his relatives, too low for anyone else to hear.

Golden turned his head modestly to the side.

Harry didn't have the chance to shake down his infuriating anaconda, because Madam Bones purred, "I don't have to question the word of someone who has a golden familiar, Albus, because this is a matter of simple _fact._ No one's familiar manifests before the age of eighteen months. There was no way of knowing that he would have such powerful magic or the ability to survive an abusive family."

Dumbledore took off his glasses and cleaned them on his robes. Then he looked up. The room changed somehow. Harry saw Madam Bones's tiger stand up and stop growling, and Minister Fudge wiped at his eyes like a drop of water had fallen into them.

Julian sat up, though, and his monkey Sara chittered sharply. Dumbledore smiled at all of them and said, "I think there's been a mistake. A few exaggerations, some jumping to conclusions. Do you think we can agree on that? There's no need to _arrest_ me for making a mistake, surely."

Julian surged to his feet, but Golden was right behind him, whipping most of his body over Julian's chair and rearing up so that he was staring into Dumbledore's eyes. Dumbledore staggered sideways. Fawkes made a shrill sound and fluttered over to his perch.

Madam Bones and the Minister sagged a little to the side. Then her tiger was growling again, and the Minister frowned and sat up, and Golden slithered off Julian's chair and down to Harry's side. Harry blinked at him. "What was _that_?"

Golden rippled at him. Julian said in a flat voice, "That was the spreading magic of someone with a golden familiar."

"I swear that I was not using it." Dumbledore gave them all an angelic smile. And they had to believe him, Harry realized.

"Then you will not be charged for that," Madam Bones said, in an even flatter tone than Julian had used. "You will only be charged for placing a child in a dangerous situation, one that you had no legal claim to. I've seen the Potters' wills, Dumbledore. They charged you to take care of him if several other people were already dead. A few of them are, including Peter Pettigrew, or disqualified by means of being in Azkaban or incapacitated. But you did not reach the end of the list. You jumped over it, and _that_ is a crime."

Dumbledore stared at her. Then he said, "I didn't know," and Harry thought that was the truth.

"Ignorance of the law is no excuse." And Madam Bones relished saying _that_ , Harry could tell. She reached out and rested her hand on her tiger's ruff, and a glowing silver chain of magic connected them, flaring up and shedding sparks on the floor. "Now, are you going to come quietly, Albus, or are you going to make a mess of things?"

Dumbledore seemed to be thinking about it. For a second, he caught Harry's eyes. Harry just looked back at him. He honestly didn't have much of an explanation for anything right now, including several things Golden had done.

Dumbledore slowly held out his hands. Madam Bones placed cuffs around them that Harry thought looked almost like Muggle ones, except these were made of pure silver etched with gold. A similar, small cuff went around Fawkes's right leg. Then Madam Bones picked up Fawkes's perch and called, "Irene! Howard!"

The two Aurors who must have followed them from the Great Hall came in. Their familiars, a tin muskrat and a copper bulldog, came behind them.

"Take the Headmaster to the Ministry," said Madam Bones, and they took the chain that attached to Dumbledore's cuffs and led him away. Madam Bones shook her head a little and carried Fawkes's perch herself.

"We will discuss holiday arrangements for you soon," she told Harry in a quiet voice as she passed him. "There are still a few people in your parents' list of potential guardians who are around and might be willing to take you. The first one is Augusta Longbottom. My niece Susan told you that her grandson's in your year here?"

Harry found himself smiling in sheer relief. He would be able to do something for Neville if he went to his house. "Yes, he's here and he's my Housemate, madam."

"Good." And then Madam Bones swept out, and the Minister stayed just a minute more to tell Harry that all would be well, and Julian pressed his shoulder as he passed, giving him a single significant look. Harry almost floated after them, unbelieving that this had gone so well, sure that something would change any second and he would be back in Dumbledore's office with him enchanting the others.

Harry frowned down at Golden as the memory returned to him. "What did you _do_?"

Golden decided this was an excellent time to slither faster. Harry followed him, scowling at his snake. He needed to learn how to work _with_ him, not just let him do whatever he wanted. Or he would end up the kind of person that he wanted to fight.


	19. Silver Shadow Snake, Part Thirteen

Thank you again for all the reviews!

 _Part Thirteen_

"You're going to be fine."

Julian spoke the words in an undertone as he sat next to Harry and Golden. Harry only nodded to him. He did think that he was going to be fine as long as people told the truth and could resist Dumbledore's magic.

He had a question to ask about that, too. "Why can't he just use his spreading magic and get out of the charges against him?"

"Because those cuffs restrict him. The one placed on Fawkes means that he can't even reach out to his familiar for extra power to his magic."

"Oh." Harry blinked and glanced sideways at Golden, who was coiled around the legs of the chair. They'd come to Julian's office at the Ministry. Apparently they would need Harry to give his side of the case. "Can I do that, too?"

"You have spreading magic, as all people with golden familiars do, yes."

"But—I mean—"

"You have not influenced anyone that I know of, Mr. Potter."

Harry shook his head. He was shuddering as he thought about what Dumbledore had done, the kind of thing he could do, too, and the way Golden had acted on his own. "But you haven't always been right there. You don't know everything for certain."

"The spreading magic has to be conscious, not unconscious. And I know that you have not influenced people because I heard the tale of the time you spent with your—relatives. You would have influenced them into leaving you alone if you wished. That tells me your repugnance for the thought of using such magic goes far deeper than your desire to use it."

"Oh." Harry bit his lip. He supposed that made sense, but he wished he could know for _sure_. He changed the subject. "Have you ever seen a familiar act on their own the way Golden did?"

"When they knew how to counter some kind of magic and their wizards didn't." Julian reached out, and Golden reared up and slithered over to him, flicking his tongue out to scent delicately at his fingers. "For example, I know that Golden countered Dumbledore's spreading magic. That's not something you could have done on your own, given that you didn't know he could even pull that trick. And sometimes the familiar acts to save their wizard's life or give them exactly what they need."

"He did that, too. He looked into my eyes and I saw the memory of a book page I'd read."

Julian paused with his eyebrows creeping up. Then he said, "That is more than I expected him to be able to do. Other familiars can remember the books and bring them to their wizards, but memory transfer is…exceptional."

Harry glared at Golden. Golden hid under Julian's chair. Julian shook his head. "Why are you angry at him?"

"I didn't know that he could do all this," Harry said, with a bitter twist in his stomach. "He just went ahead and did it without my permission. And I don't like the thought that I have this spreading magic. I don't want to—"

"Influence others? Affect others without their permission?"

"Yes!"

"You've already done that." Julian's voice was gentle. "People react to news of you being born to the gold with gladness or fear or respect, and you can't keep them from doing that. It would be more wrong if you could. We all move through the world and touch other lives. You want to be careful in how you do that, which is a good thing; certainly Albus Dumbledore has never been careful enough. But you also have to accept the _good_ consequences of such power, Harry. You are allowed to accept things for yourself."

While Harry was thinking about that, Golden crawled out from under the chair and nudged softly against his hand. Harry looked down at him and caressed his neck. He knew Golden was anxious to be forgiven.

"All right," Harry said finally. He wanted to change the world. He supposed he couldn't be upset if he had the power to do so. "But I really need to _work_ with Golden and find out what he can do. He can't just keep surprising me."

Julian smiled a little. "Given how much attention this investigation has attracted in the Ministry, you should have a number of volunteer teachers soon."

* * *

Albus kept his head turned slightly away from the door as Madam Bones entered. The cuffs were cool against his wrists. Albus had already tried his spreading magic, and the cuffs had glowed gold in the places where gold was already threaded through the silver and then forced the magic back into his body.

It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, but it did underscore how far he had fallen.

"Are you ready to confess, Albus?"

"I have no confession to make. I did what I thought was best."

He heard the chair creak as Madam Bones took it. Into the corner of his view stalked her silver tiger. He bared hungry teeth. Albus frowned at him. "Control your familiar, madam."

"Phantom is perfectly under control," Madam Bones said calmly. "He only senses how much you'd like to hurt me, and reacts accordingly. And I want to know why causing me pain is part of your thoughts, Albus. If you were really sorry for what you did, placing a child with those abusive Muggles, then you would understand my stance, even if you didn't agree with it."

"I did not _mean_ to cause him pain."

"I know. But it happened anyway. And most of the time when that happens, we apologize."

Albus wanted to cover his face with his hands and sigh, but the chains between the cuffs attached his arms to the chair. "Amelia," he said, hoping that matching her informality with informality would encourage her to listen to him. "That boy is dangerously uncontrolled."

"You think a Muggle family would somehow control him?"

"No. But it would teach him humility, that he cannot simply throw around his magic and his name to—"

Amelia laughed. Albus quieted and looked at her. There was a sharp jut to her jaw that he had never seen before.

" _You're_ the one who needs to learn humility," Amelia whispered, above the steady growl of her tiger. "Not that you'll ever admit it. But the rest of us can recognize reality when it slaps us in the face."

"You know that I'll walk out of the Ministry, Amelia."

"Will you? I wonder. You'll have trial in those cuffs, Albus. You won't be able to use your spreading magic to influence us as—I suspect you must have done before now. And you think you'll be able to interfere in Harry's placement?"

"You're not calling him Mr. Potter, Amelia? That shows a dangerous level of intimacy already."

"You're not his legal guardian."

"I honestly had no idea of that. I was so close with his parents, and I was the one who performed the Fidelius Charm for them, although not the one who chose the Secret-Keeper—"

"You aren't. Apologies would help, but since you won't give them, and you don't seem in the mood to confess your wrongs, either…" Amelia stood, shook her head, and walked out of the room. Her tiger remained, staring at Albus. The perch with Fawkes stood in the corner, but given the cuffs around his arms, Albus could not use his familiar to attack the great cat.

Albus leaned slowly back and closed his eyes. He was going to get out of this. And he would make Harry and the rest understand that he had only acted for the best. No one could love someone like blood family could. Lily and James's fierce devotion to their son proved that. His own ache where he still missed Ariana proved that.

It sounded as though Petunia and her family had not loved Harry the way Albus would have preferred. But they must love him deep down. He must understand, deep down. He was reckless, but one could expect that of a child. If he could grow past that, if he could learn to understand and be understood…

Then Albus's mission would have been accomplished no matter what he currently sat in chains for.

* * *

"Mr. Potter. You are Mr. Potter?'

"Yes, um, Madam Longbottom?"

"Mrs. Longbottom will do, child." The woman stepped forwards and eyed him carefully for a moment. On one shoulder sat a bronze eagle, its feathers all ruffled. Neville's Gran saw his gaze and nodded. "This is Signora, my Lord."

"Please don't call me that," Harry said, feeling something inside him wilt and die of embarrassment. It would probably be worse when she heard Golden's name. "This is Golden."

Mrs. Longbottom only examined Golden for long enough to, it seemed to Harry, see his color, and then she sank down in a curtsey. "If you prefer that I won't use the title, then I won't. But I _will_ show respect."

Harry opened his mouth, then checked himself. This might mean that he would get to have her treat Neville better. "Okay, Mrs. Longbottom. And anyway, I'm excited to come and live with you. Neville is already my friend."

"I'm glad that he has _one_ friend worth something. Merlin knows that he won't find many in a House like Hufflepuff."

"Mrs. Longbottom, please listen to me. Neville is really strong. He's braver than he knows. He keeps going to Potions class every day even though the teacher terrifies him. And he would help me with anything I asked for. He's _loyal_. And he has a work ethic. Are those bad things?"

"I wanted him in Gryffindor. His father was. Neville should strive to be more like his father.

"But _I'm_ in Hufflepuff. How can you say that you respect me and yet be upset that Neville's also there?"

Mrs. Longbottom paused. Harry was actually glad to see the way her face worked. It meant that she wasn't just going along with whatever he wanted, the way she would have if his spreading magic was an issue. He wanted to let people have their free choice.

Across the office, Julian gave him a small, amused smile.

"Neville has a strong legacy to live up to," Mrs. Longbottom finally said. "And so far, he has shown _no_ signs of being worthy of that heritage."

"But you could say the same thing about me."

"Nonsense! You were born to the gold."

"But I haven't done a lot with it so far, have I? I haven't changed the world yet. Don't you expect people with golden familiars to do that by the time they're eleven years old?"

"Perhaps these are the first of those changes," Mrs. Longbottom muttered, but she was looking at him thoughtfully. "You think Neville has the potential to become something more?"

"Yes. But he needs some things. He needs to know that you love him and respect him, too." Harry took a deep breath. "And he needs a new wand. I'm sorry, Mrs. Longbottom, but he's just not compatible with his dad's."

Mrs. Longbottom frowned harder. "That was his _father's_ wand."

"But Neville's not his dad. I'm sorry," Harry repeated, when he saw how Signora was stretching her wings. "But he's not. He needs his own wand so he can have his own kind of greatness."

"I imagine that you think he'll grow something valuable in the greenhouses?"

"Why not? Professor Aurora Black did."

Mrs. Longbottom frowned harder. Harry thought she just didn't want to admit that she'd never heard of Aurora Black, who was a Herbology genius and one of the first wizards to come up with ways to combat dangerous plants like mandrakes. She should have heard of her, living with Neville, who talked about her all the time. "Hm. Well, all right. I'll escort you back to the school now." She nodded to Julian and turned away.

"You'll be summoned to testify formally soon," Julian said quietly, and put away the notes that he'd taken from talking with Harry earlier. "Both about the investigation into Professor Quirrell and into Dumbledore."

"All right." Harry shook his arms out. He felt tired, but at least he'd probably got Dumbledore out of the school for a while and got some help for poor Professor Quirrell and got Neville into a better place.

 _Not a bad start._

He told Julian good-bye and followed Mrs. Longbottom, eyeing Golden as he did so. Golden crawled along and acted oblivious of the way that everyone in the Ministry stopped and stared at him. Harry was glad when they got into a lift that was empty except for them and that couldn't happen anymore.

Mrs. Longbottom chuckled suddenly. Harry looked up at her. She gave him a thin smile and said, "It will be a pleasure to ride behind you as you change the world, my Lord."

Harry didn't roll his eyes, but only because he tried really hard. _Why can't I just change the world and not be called that?_


	20. Silver Shadow Snake, Part Fourteen

Thank you again for all the reviews!

 _Part Fourteen_

"Is it true that you were abused?"

Harry sighed and put his book down. He was working with Golden in the library, seeing how well they could communicate with each other when he looked at a page and then tried to see it through Golden's eyes. But he could only do that some of the time, with how often people were coming up and asking him questions.

"I'm sorry." The boy suddenly sounded embarrassed. "I suppose I shouldn't be asking you this."

"It's okay." Harry smiled at him. He was a boy in Ravenclaw colors, and somehow he managed to look even smaller than Harry. Harry had thought he was the smallest of the first-years himself. "What's your name?"

"Derek Stebbins." The boy shifted the tin sparrow on his shoulder. "And this is Singer."

"He wouldn't take any other name, right?"

"No, I named him when I was two, and he won't _stop_."

Harry laughed as he watched Singer nibble at Derek's ear. "I know, my familiar's like that, too. Anyway, this is Golden. Why don't you sit down across from me and then I can tell you more about my relatives?"

"Um, okay." Derek sat down, and swung his legs, and suddenly seemed a lot more interested in Harry's book. "You don't have to answer. If you don't want to. My gran's always telling me that I need to think before I speak."

Harry looked at him thoughtfully. "You should, but you should ask questions, too. Anyway, my relatives didn't want me. My aunt was jealous of my mum's magic, I think. None of them could see Golden, so they didn't know what kept them from hurting me, but they tried to. Hurt me, I mean."

Derek looked up at him with wide eyes. "Why?"

"They didn't like me."

"I mean—that's it? That doesn't sound like a good reason for hurting someone."

"I don't think there's a good reason for hurting someone unless you're trying to protect someone else. Yourself would count." Harry looked more closely at Derek. He was listening with his head tilted to one side like Singer. "What are some of the reasons that you think are good for hurting someone?" He was just making a guess, but he knew he was right when Derek jerked and turned pale.

"Wh-what?"

"You're Muggleborn, right?" Harry asked quietly. "And you asked me if they had some other reason for hurting me. Who told you that hurting _you_ was okay? What was the reason?"

Derek glanced away from him. Then he said, "You have to understand. My mum? She had me when she was really young. Like fourteen. Or fifteen. My gran never really said. But it was _young_."

"Okay." Harry didn't know what that had to do with someone trying to hurt Derek, but he just wanted to listen and not judge.

"And my gran had my mum young. So my gran's only like forty-five or something." Derek ran his tongue around a tooth. "She's upset that she has to raise me because my mum dumped me on her doorstep and ran off somewhere. She wants to be able to go out and have fun. And she doesn't want me there when she brings her—her blokes around."

Harry could see where this was going, but he just nodded.

"Some of the blokes don't want a little kid around anywhere. They—they get rough, you know? I don't think they want to hurt me. They're just pissed."

"I know."

"So my gran doesn't stop them, and then I hide in my room and they can go out and have fun. And Singer, he tries to stop them, sometimes, but he's _little_. And I don't have that much magic. I didn't even know it was magic I was doing at first, but then I came here, and I found out what it means, 'cause Singer is the color of tin. That means I'm _weak_."

"It does _not_ ," Harry said, and Derek looked at him with his eyes and mouth wide open. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm not scared!"

"But I want to change that. Everyone thinks I'm so special and I can do anything because I have a golden familiar, but I want to do things because they're _right_. The Dursleys thought they could hurt me because they thought they were stronger than me. They couldn't see Golden. And if I didn't have Golden, they would be stronger. Would that make it right for them to hurt me?"

"No, of course not," said Derek after a minute that felt really uncomfortable, probably for both of them. "But—"

"Then it shouldn't be right to hurt people in the wizarding world just because they have tin familiars, either. Or copper, or bronze, or whatever. I know that lots of people will do whatever I say because I have a golden one, but I have to change that, too. Someday they _won't_ , because they're believe they're just as good as me."

Derek blinked, hard. Then he said, "Is this because you were abused?"

Harry stopped and thought about that. He knew what he would have said if Julian asked him that question, but Derek was another kid. Finally he said, "Part of it. But not the whole thing. Some of it is just right. Why do you think everyone wanted to do what Dumbledore said?"

"Because he was _Dumbledore_!"

"What do you mean?" Harry hadn't expected that. He thought Derek would say because he had a gold phoenix, or because he was Headmaster.

"I read all about the things he did," Derek said enthusiastically, and for the first time, he really sounded like a Ravenclaw. "Like defeating Grindelwald and discovering the twelve uses of dragon's blood and standing up to the Ministry. He's a hero. That's why they want to follow him." He looked up at the scar on Harry's forehead. "Just like they want to follow you because you defeated You-Know-Who."

"But people listen to me in the first place because of Golden. And a lot of people listened to Dumbledore because of Fawkes."

"Oh. Yeah." Derek hesitated. "But that makes you more powerful, right?"

"No," said Harry. "Magically powerful, maybe. But remember what I said about people shouldn't be able to treat you the way they want just because they're more powerful?"

Derek nodded. "But isn't that, like, tricking people? You get them to do what you say because they'll follow someone with a golden familiar, and then you turn around and tell them that you don't want them to do what you say because people shouldn't just follow people with golden familiars."

Harry grinned. "It is sort of tricking them. But at the moment, they won't listen to anyone except someone with a gold. So I'll talk until they realize there are other reasons to listen."

"You're all right, Potter." Derek seemed relaxed now. "Granger said you were, but I wondered about your relatives. Can I study with you?"

"Yeah." Harry held out his book. "Have your familiar read this. Then see if he can send it to you." He was determined to see if it worked with familiars other than Golden, and keep going if it did. He knew that golden ones weren't the _only_ powerful ones. Julian's familiar had been trained to hold onto memories and she'd kept him safe from Dumbledore's spreading magic. And she was bronze, not silver. So probably there were things people never tried to get their familiars to do because they just assumed they weren't strong enough, but they had the power all this time.

"Okay. But Singer doesn't read very well."

"Just have him try."

Derek bent over the book, and Singer landed on the table and stared intently at the words. Harry reached down and stroked Golden's head. Golden looked as contented as a cat, twisting his head to the side so that Harry could scratch the scales on his eye-ridges.

"This doesn't get you out of practicing," Harry muttered at him.

Golden looked innocent.

* * *

Severus felt stupid as he stood before the barrel-hidden door of the Hufflepuff common room, but he had no idea what to do except to see Harry. He waited until a fifth-year student came out, since they were less likely to quake in fear at the sight of him. This one's eyes widened, but she nodded to him even while her copper hedgehog rolled into a ball. "Did you need something, sir?"

"I need to speak to Harry Potter."

"I'll bring him out, sir."

She turned and went back into the common room. Severus stood with his hands folded in his sleeves and waited. Shadowstriker was silent around his throat, looking more at the barrels than around for danger. Severus couldn't remember the last time he'd been—almost relaxed.

"Why do I feel this way?" he asked his familiar. "Numb. I would have thought I'd feel rage at Albus, or joy that he's gone, but—not this."

"Are you all right, sir?"

Somehow a small boy and a golden anaconda could still almost sneak up on him. Severus turned around and fought the sneer off his face. He no longer had to keep it there to appease Albus, at least not right now. "I want to know whether you'd like to pick up gathering the herbs and things for the ritual to free Professor Quirrell."

"Yes, but sir, I only want you to use things that you can pick or gather yourself. Or that you have on hand. Let the Malfoys pay for the rest of it."

"You know the Malfoys will no longer underestimate you? Now that you have succeeded in taking Albus down."

"That wasn't me, that was Madam Bones."

Severus sighed. "Feigned naiveté does not become you. You know that many would think it was you even if was purely her. You need to think about claiming your power and not letting someone else do it for you."

There was an odd look on Harry's face. "I'm coming to terms with that, sir."

"Then what are you going to do when the Malfoys no longer underestimate you?"

"I'm going to let them think they're playing me. I'm going to keep being friends with Draco. I'm going to keep fighting my battles to keep people from thinking that people with golden familiars are all-important."

"But they may do something else. Something dangerous to you. Demand a dangerous price for their aid, for example."

"Then I'll deal with that when it happens."

Severus sighed again and said, "I am merely trying to make you realize that you do not want to be beholden to them."

"No, I _don't_ particularly want to be beholden to them," Harry agreed, surprisingly docile. "But sitting here at the moment and worrying about what they might do, when I don't have any evidence yet, isn't productive. I couldn't just sit there and worry about the Dursleys either, sir. I had to cope with what they actually _did_."

Severus paused. Then he lowered his head in a slow nod. That actually sounded reasonable. "If Narcissa or Lucius ask you for something more than you want to give, you will come and speak to me at once."

"Yes, I will, sir. Thank you for helping me with this."

Severus hesitated. Then he said, "Albus may return as well."

"I know. But at least _something's_ going to happen. And now I know what his spreading magic is. And Golden can counter it. I'm going to work on resisting that, too, and making sure I don't use it."

Severus wished he could express what he was thinking to the boy in front of him—the hope, the wariness, the weariness, the joy. But he ended up saying, "Of all the people who could be born with the power of a golden familiar, I am glad it was you."

Harry beamed at him and said, "And I'm glad you're the one helping me with this ritual, sir."

He went back into the Hufflepuff common room. Severus was again left alone with Shadowstriker, but this time, he was able to turn and walk slowly up the corridor with his heartbeat slowing in his chest.

If he had to someday call someone Lord again, he was also glad it would be Harry.


	21. Silver Shadow Snake, Part Fifteen

Thank you again for all the reviews!

 _Part Fifteen_

Albus looked up at the men and women facing him. He was sitting in a chair bound with chains and with his arms crossed low over his stomach. He wanted to shake his head. Had anyone watching him with a disapproving glance done half as much as he had to save and protect the world? Had any of them been strong enough to stand against Tom? They had needed someone with a golden familiar to face a silver so strong, and now they were ready to turn on him.

 _How fickle adoration is._

"Albus Dumbledore, we are here to try you for the _act_ of leaving Harry Potter with an abusive Muggle family," Amelia Bones said. She stood on the floor in front of him instead of up in the gallery. Her tiger sat at her side, never taking his gaze off Fawkes, who was chained to the perch next to Albus. "Not the intention, the _act_. How do you plead?"

"I plead not guilty."

"Really."

"I do," Albus said firmly. He knew they didn't have to take his word when they had Pensieve memories-in this case, the memories given by that misguided child to a wizard with a familiar trained to receive them—but he could still make his case. "I am no more guilty than someone who thought a child was safely placed out of the way in Diagon Alley and then had them wander into the street. I could not have _known_ his family would turn abusive."

He saw a few nodding heads in the crowd, and fought not to exhale in relief. Good. He still had some supporters here, then.

"Ah," said Amelia. "But someone who had injured a child that way might still be tried for the act. A lesser charge than doing it knowingly, of course. But still one."

Albus stared at her. He had honestly never heard of such a thing. Then again, he hadn't had much to do with the day-to-day business of the Wizengamot for years. He had his school to nurture, and usually only attended the huge trials where someone was charged with a heinous crime.

"Blame Muggleborns and their influence on our laws, if you want to," Amelia said to his glance.

She turned and called the wizard with the bronze monkey on his shoulder down from the seats. The man had a cast to his eye that Albus disliked. He knew that sort of wizard. He would have grown up resenting the world around him for his being born a bronze, and now he saw the chance to strike back at the possessor of a golden phoenix.

"Would you be willing to testify as to the conversation you had with Harry Potter about his abusive relatives, Julian?" Amelia asked the man.

"I would," said Julian, with a bow of his hand, and extended his arm. His familiar ran to the very ends of his fingers, and balanced there the way her non-magical kin would on a branch in the forest. She drew her hands up to her chest and closed her eyes. Albus watched as small silver tendrils of memory emerged from her head and connected with her wizard's.

When the connection was complete, the wizard began to speak. He talked about neglect, in the end, Albus thought, listening intently. _Neglect_ , not abuse. There were children in the school who had endured worse. Severus had, for example. And Harry had had a powerful familiar to protect him. It wasn't as bad as it could have been.

He sighed as he watched the disgusted looks on the face turned towards him. Even if they wanted to follow someone who had a golden familiar as their new Lord, Harry was still a _child_. And, if what Albus suspected was true about the scar on his forehead and his sympathy for Quirinus _was_ true, then he would have to die before he had grown. Why would members of the Wizengamot want to follow an unknown quantity rather than the man who had defended their world more than once?

Julian finished speaking. Albus turned back to him and frowned at the look of disgust the man gave him. Albus had done wrong, yes, but he was still owed courtesy and respect because of the color of his phoenix.

Julian gave him none.

"That is everything he told me," Julian said, and inclined his head. "I cannot say anything else without Mr. Potter here testifying."

"We will summon him for this weekend, then," said Amelia, and sent Julian back to his seat with a casual wave of her hand. "Now. Back to your cell, Albus."

"You cannot keep me in a _cell_ for the next few days," Albus said, even as he felt the Aurors standing behind him train their wands on him. With the bloody cuffs around his wrist and the band around Fawkes's leg, they were stronger than he was. But he kept his attention fixed on Amelia. "That is ridiculous. Immoral."

"We do it all the time with child abusers."

"You should do it with the Dursleys, then."

"When we get hold of them, we will,' said Amelia, and gestured with her wand. The chains around Albus's wrists fell away, but new ones attached themselves and coiled about the arm of one of the Aurors before Albus could make any motion.

He looked straight at Amelia, making sure she bore the full force of his displeasure, before the Auror came forwards to drag him away. She only gave him a calm, taunting smile.

She would _pay_ for this. He did not deserve to be chained up and dragged about like a common criminal.

And he would see that she knew it.

* * *

Harry was coming back from Gryffindor Tower where he'd visited Ron and Cormac. He was glad that Ron was speaking up more now and had even yelled at one of the twins for their pranks and made them back down. He'd felt too worthless for too long. He was just as good as the rest of his family.

And Harry had to make sure to tell Mrs. Longbottom the same thing about Neville when he lived with them this summer.

Golden abruptly lifted his head. Harry paused. He was on one of the staircases down from the second floor to the first, and he couldn't sense anything. But he trusted Golden's instincts.

Golden wrapped himself abruptly around Harry, a sideways lunge of his body. Harry tumbled over and slid down a few steps, and he was just drawing his breath to scold Golden when a bolt of power tore over his head.

Harry tried to roll loose. Golden only tightened around him and lifted the upper part of his body up. Harry blinked up the stairs. Professor Quirrell was standing there, his wand aimed at Harry. Alanna crouched shivering next to him. Harry saw a gleam of silver inside her before it disappeared.

"You _are_ a nuisance," Professor Quirrell said, walking down a step or so. "And I wonder why you make it your business to send your snake to spy on me?" He shook his head. "The answers to those questions aren't as important as your death, however." He leveled his wand straight at Harry again.

Golden's body began to glow. In a second, a yellow haze was hovering around him and Harry. Harry craned his neck impatiently. Right now, he couldn't see Professor Quirrell, and he thought he might be able to convince him if he could just _see_ him.

Something bounced off the wall, and there was a startled curse. Harry reckoned he had to be glad the wall was there.

"You are stronger than I expected. That's not going to keep me from killing you."

"I am trying to help you!" Harry called out. "A ritual that would force the possessing spirit out of your body."

Professor Quirrell was quiet for a second. Then another bolt of power hit the wall and made it shiver even harder. Harry blinked, but then sighed. He should have remembered that Voldemort was there, too, listening. Of course he would be upset at the thought of being forced out and being a wandering spirit again.

"What should we do, Golden?" Harry whispered to his snake. He could feel the coils loosening, and he scrambled out of them and stood up, although he was still within the yellow wall.

Again Golden seemed to be paying attention to something he couldn't sense. This time, Harry wasn't really surprised when someone screamed, "Professor Quirrell! What are you doing?" It was Hermione's voice.

By the sound of it, Professor Quirrell was trying to spin some comforting story. But Hermione didn't seem to be buying it. Harry knew she didn't when Regina, her familiar, suddenly leaped over the yellow wall and nipped at his ankle.

Harry turned and ran further down the stairs, with Regina scampering behind him and Golden slithering ahead of him. He hated leaving Hermione behind to handle this on her own, but he wanted to get down the stairs as soon as possible so he could send the familiars back to fight.

* * *

Hermione was deeply shocked. She knew Professor Quirrell had already attacked Harry in class once, and so she shouldn't be surprised he was doing the same thing outside of class, but it had been long enough since the first strike that she thought he'd forgiven Harry, or heard about the ritual to expel the possessing spirit and decided to wait and see whether it could help.

Now she backed up in front of him as he advanced towards her. "Why are you doing this?" she demanded. "You know that Harry just wants to help you!"

"I have grown more powerful under the tutelage of my master," Quirrell said, giving her a smile that seemed to stretch wider on his face than it should. "But why should I waste time explaining that to you? You are a spoiled little Mudblood, and you know nothing of true Darkness or true power." He raised his wand. " _Obliviate_!"

But Hermione had been reading up about defensive magic along with the laws and the rituals and the other subjects she seemed to study naturally since she was Harry's friend, and she had already dodged behind a pillar. Books cascaded out of her arms; she'd been on her way back from the library when she saw Harry in danger. She hastily fumbled for her wand.

"Come out, little girl, before I do something worse than remove your memory!"

Hermione controlled her breathing as harshly as she could, and then leaned out on the other side of the pillar and aimed her wand. At the same time, a small gleam of silver leaped up the banister, and Regina landed on her shoulder.

Her familiar's power flooded down her arm and blended with hers, and when Hermione cast, " _Aguamenti_!", she knew it would do exactly what she wanted it to.

Water flooded down the stairs and then froze into ice when Regina glared at it. Quirrell slipped a step as he tried to aim at her, and then his rabbit bolted and began to tumble ears over paws. Rabbits weren't really made for running on ice, Hermione thought distantly before she took off straight towards Professor McGonagall's office. She was the acting Headmistress while Professor Dumbledore was under arrest.

Quirrell cursed and started after her. Hermione ran faster and hid behind pillars and banisters and around corners when she could. She wasn't that far away now.

Harry and Golden hadn't come back, so she hoped they would be okay. That golden wall Golden had conjured said they would be.

And she hoped the library books she had dropped would be okay, too.


	22. Silver Shadow Snake, Part Sixteen

Thank you again for all the reviews!

 _Part Sixteen_

The familiars herded Harry down the stairs until he was out of breath and his legs hurt. He kept trying to turn around and go back to help Hermione, but they wouldn't let him.

"I'm more powerful than Professor Quirrell!" he argued when they reached the bottom of the stairs, whipping around to confront Golden and Regina. "If you keep me here, then he'll just try to—"

He paused when he realized only Golden was swaying in front of him. Regina had run away, probably to help her witch.

Harry put his foot on the lowest stair. Golden immediately gave him an extremely patient look. It was the kind of look he used to give the Dursleys all the time, even though they couldn't see it. Harry didn't like seeing it directed at him.

"You _can't_ expect me to leave her there," he whispered.

Golden bobbed his head in a definite nod.

"She could get _killed_!" Harry tried to dodge to the side and around his snake, but Golden only looped himself back in front of Harry. Harry halted, and glared at him, and fumed. Then he decided that he needed to go for help if Golden wouldn't let him help himself, and started running along looking for the professors.

Luckily, Professor Sprout was walking along the corridor, probably heading to the Great Hall for dinner. She gasped and clutched her heart when he appeared in front of her. "Mr. Potter, you gave me such a fright, popping up the way you did!" she scolded him.

"Professor Sprout, hurry! Professor Quirrell attacked me at the top of the stairs and then he went after Hermione!"

At least his Head of House didn't waste time staring at him or telling him that such things didn't happen and he must have mistaken Professor Quirrell's intentions, the way people sometimes had about his relatives. She hiked up her robes and started running towards the stairs. Harry ran after her. Golden, infuriatingly, seemed perfectly content to glide beside him now, or sometimes next to the professor's copper hamster.

They reached the top of the stairs, and found no trace of Professor Quirrell, of course. Professor Sprout cast a diagnostic charm of some kind that seemed to satisfy her, and nodded. "He was here. He used Dark magic. And I can find him if I just…" She glanced down at her hamster. "Can you find him, Bryony?"

The hamster sniffed around for a second, and then squeaked and took off down the corridor. Harry followed. He looked worriedly for some sign of Hermione, but he didn't see her. At least she seemed to be okay if he wasn't seeing her body anywhere, either.

Professor Sprout was muttering something about being too old for all this running when Bryony suddenly gave another squeak, a shrill one. Then she came rolling back and bumped against Professor Sprout's skirts. Harry saw why in a moment. Alanna had kicked her.

Professor Quirrell stood with his rabbit next to him and his wand lifted, hammering curse after curse into a door in front of him. Harry thought it was Professor McGonagall's office. He didn't know if she was in there, but he didn't think so, because she probably would have come charging out by now. Maybe Hermione was just hiding in there.

"Quirinus! What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing?"

"Taking care of _you_ ," Professor Quirrell said, and turned so that his wand was pointing at Professor Sprout. "And you're only copper to my silver. You can't stop me."

"Delusional about the state of your familiar, I see," Professor Sprout said, and then she pointed her wand at the floor. " _I_ don't have to fight you."

Harry glanced over his shoulder to see if Professor McGonagall was coming, but then he turned back when he saw movement. He was afraid Professor Quirrell had started to cast, but he hadn't. Instead, vines were rising up through the floor of the castle, and they grabbed Professor Quirrell and Alanna and twined around them.

Professor Quirrell made a horrible spitting and snarling sound that Harry worried had hurt his throat. "You interfering old _baggage_ , if you had the slightest idea of what kind of magic you're playing with-"

"I know that it can contain _you_ , Quirinus." Professor Sprout was bending down and feeling at her familar's side. Harry hoped Bryony was all right. "And that's all I need it to do at the moment."

" _Deflueo!_ "

The vines immediately began to blacken and wither. Professor Sprout let out a shocked gasp and staggered back a step. "Where did you learn that sort of magic, Quirinus?"

"None of your business, Pomona."

The vines were already sinking back into the stone, and Alanna was free and hopping around. She seemed scared to come near Professor Sprout and Bryony, but Harry knew that could change in a second. Instinctively, he did what he'd always done at the Dursleys' when he was in trouble and looked to Golden.

Golden was swaying back and forth again, his eyes bright and alert and unafraid, and then he lunged forwards and wrapped around Alanna. She squealed horribly, but at least she stopped moving. And then Professor Sprout murmured, "What am I doing, letting a child defend me?" and snapped her wand down and repeated another spell that brought more vines surging up to hug Professor Quirrell.

They took the professor's wand away from him after a second. Professor Quirrell opened his mouth to say something, and a vine clapped a big leaf across his mouth. Harry laughed for a second before he winced. It looked like something he had wished would happen to Dudley when he was whining about getting more presents, but Professor Quirrell wasn't Dudley.

"Are you all right, Professor Sprout? Is Bryony okay?"

"Yes, we are, Mr. Potter." Professor Sprout adjusted her pointed hat and turned to look at Alanna. "She doesn't look well. Do you think that the professor's sickness could have influenced her?"

"I think she's sick, and so is he." Harry wasn't going to tell anyone about the possession who might get upset and not believe him. "But I don't know who got sick first."

"Of course not, Mr. Potter." Professor Sprout gave him a soft smile. "Forgive me for asking you. One turns instinctively to a wizard with a golden familiar for help, but I forget that you're a student sometimes."

Before Harry could answer, the door of Professor McGonagall's office opened. Hermione crept out with Regina on her shoulder chattering and showing her teeth. She gasped at the vines. "Is Professor Quirrell in there? Is everything okay?"

"More than all right, Miss Granger," Professor Sprout told her. "I do have to report this to the Headmistress. I'll find her, however. You should both return to your common rooms." Bryony bounced out from behind her and did her best to herd them around the corner and down the stairs after Golden had let Alanna go. Hermione went only reluctantly. Both she and Regina kept looking back at Professor Quirrell until he was out of sight.

"It's kind of awful, isn't it?" Hermione said in a low voice when she and Harry had got to the point where they had to split so she could go up to Ravenclaw Tower and he could go down to the Hufflepuff common room. "That a professor could be possessed and want to cooperate with the possessing spirit?"

Harry nodded. He opened his mouth to say something and then Hermione turned so pale that he reached towards her. She had to have some hidden wound she was losing blood from. "Hermione, what is it?"

"My library books! Did you see them?"

* * *

Severus sat back in a corner of the meeting room, frowning. Albus had rarely called all the professors together except at the beginning of the year and the end, to focus on matters that needed to be settled before September 1st or the summer, or to make an announcement about something frivolous. Minerva seemed even less likely to make grand announcements, and it was the middle of the term.

But she was standing in the midst of them, looking gravely from face to face as if it would help her come to a judgment about something. When the settling into seats was done, she said, "How many of you knew that Quirinus was possessed?"

Severus forcibly kept himself from reacting, looking around at the gasps and starts. Pomona looked old and weary, and the only other one who wasn't surprised. Sybill said hesitantly, "But he can't have been possessed. I would have seen it."

"He still is possessed," said Minerva. "A very powerful spirit; I know enough soul-magic for that. And I fear that his familiar is possessed as well." She shifted Malkin on her shoulder. He leaned down and sniffed at her in a way that Severus knew meant he was offering comfort.

"That's impossible, Minerva! Our familiars die when our bodies do."

"Unless the possessing spirit never died at all."

Severus didn't intend to speak; he was simply reacting to a daft statement automatically, the way he would when he saw it in a student essay. Minerva turned piercing eyes on him. "Then you suspect what spirit this is, Severus?"

"Yes. The Dark Lord."

At a different time, Severus would have enjoyed watching the pale faces and hearing the moans of despair and disbelief. Now, he was mostly wondering how Minerva had found out. Had something happened to Harry? To Golden?

Shadowstriker tightened around his throat in his own version of comfort. Severus closed his eyes and stroked his scales. Yes, thinking about it, he suspected his serpent _would_ know if something had happened to the most powerful snake familiar in the school.

"But You-Know-Who is dead!"

"It can't be him!"

"How in the world would you know a thing like that, Snape?" Aurora's voice was openly distrustful, and her eyes flashed to his left arm so fast that she would have had plausible deniability with most people other than Severus.

"The Dark Lord probably did not have enough humanity left in him to die," Severus said. He hated that he was echoing a sentiment Albus had spouted, but with this particular audience, that might make his words' impact all the stronger. "It would make sense that he had survived and managed to bring the spirit of his familiar along with him. I would speak to Mr. Potter if I were you, Minerva. He has told me about being able to see a silver snake within Quirinus's rabbit, and since Mr. Potter both has a golden familiar and is a Parselmouth..."

"Mr. Potter never mentioned that to me when I caught Quirinus attempting to annihilate him and Miss Granger today!"

"Perhaps he thought he should keep the secret," Severus told Pomona.

"I'm his Head of House, though!"

Severus said nothing about how ineffective he thought Pomona was as a leader for the badgers. His silence said it for him. She began to flush, but Minerva interrupted. "Would Mr. Potter be willing to bring those conclusions into the open, Severus?"

"Not if you intend to send Quirinus to Azkaban without attempting to help him," Seveurs said blandly. Shadowstriker had relaxed again, while Malkin had pointed his whole body forwards, which Severus felt should be the natural state of things when he and Minerva were dealing with each other. "Mr. Potter is determined to free Quirinus's spirit from the possession. Granted, that may be hard if the fool gave the Dark Lord _permission_ to take over. But Mr. Potter still wishes to try."

"He assaulted one of my badgers!"

"And apparently another student, given what you said about Miss Granger, Pomona," Minerva finished with a small sigh. "Very well. It will be more difficult, but I will approach Mr. Potter about sharing his research with us openly. And I do not think that anyone will be eager to have Quirinus teaching students of any House now." Heads shook fervently around the room. "That does leave us with the problem of finishing up the year with a competent Defense teacher..."

Severus relaxed even further as the debate began. So, for right now, the issue of the idiot's possession was out in the open, and no one had died.

It depressed him to realize how low his standards had become.


End file.
